Poked
by DoraMouse
Summary: With respect and humor, I will now attempt to take apart five and half worlds in order to make you look at the characters in a different light. Other worlds may make cameo appearances. Should be enlightening. Read it and have a laugh, if you'd like.
1. 1:1

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sonic. Nor do I own anything else made up by Sega. And I've decided to do some fairly drastic editing to the entire concept of the PokeMon world but I won't claim to own it, either. I should pause and give specific thanks to the video game _We Love Katamari_, the computer game _Plants vs. Zombies_ and the collectible card game _Magic: The Gathering_ for some inspirations. Anything that reminds anyone of a wide range of comic and manga characters, a wider range of cartoon characters, a ridiculous amount of mythology, an astonishing amount of philosophy or the movie _Airplane_... Well. I don't own any of those things, either. And I don't promise to reference all of them. But they also inspire me. Guess you could say that I learned from the best, yea?

**Claimer:** However I do own this story. And I'm sure that other people have done weird semi-crossover-parody fics but I'm also fairly sure that the result was probably nothing quite like this. Eh. Perhaps that should be a warning. This idea was way too much fun for me NOT to write. Hope that someone enjoys reading it.

**Rating Specifics:** This story is safe - unless comic violence is a problem - for kids to read but I don't know if kids would really get it. Or if they should try to. Some of the references might literally be older than them. So I've decided to give this fic an adult rating because the target audience mostly likely to understand the references in this story are probably adults. That's all.

**ooxoo**

**1:1**

**T**he main drawback of being the fastest creature alive was, believe it or not, being the fastest creature alive. Yep. It was that simple. Sonic had adapted. He could breathe even when moving at the speed of sound. He did not usually throw up or catch fire if he abruptly had to skid to a stop. But he did, once in a while, find himself unable to put on the brakes fast enough. Coming down from a fraction of lightspeed... It could take a few miles, sometimes, to completely reach a standstill.

Which meant that he sometimes fell into an alternate dimension.

This had happened to him before.

It was always kind of annoying, though.

Being a large blue semi-humanoid hedgehog, Sonic was probably not the mental image that came to most peoples minds when they tried to imagine what an interdimensional warrior should look like. He was, in fact, not even the mental image that came to his own mind. Sonic had never really intended to be a warrior, much less an interdimensional one. But Sonic had a knack for destroying robots of all shapes and sizes. So of course he'd gotten involved in his worlds ongoing struggles against a robot-building mad scientist. And Sonic had the speed, from who knows what kind of genetics, to outrun anything but unfiltered light. So he occasionally fell into other dimensions. For some reason the warps always opened up right in front of him at the most random moments. His native world, Sonic thought, must be at some sort of dimensional crossroads.

He was fairly certain that's what had happened. Again. He recognized the sensation, even before opening his eyes. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. Sonic felt as if perhaps he'd left some vital internal organs behind. He couldn't have survived actually doing so but that's how it felt. Dimensional warps were always a bit uncomfortable. His body was not happy with him. And he kind of dreaded opening his eyes, now.

Sonic was laying on his stomach. He was a hedgehog, he had quills. Only eight but the aerodynamic star of spikes protruded from his head and spine. Even the smallest of these quills was thicker than his arm. It wouldn't have been comfortable for him to lay on his back. He cautiously opened one green eye, waited for the world to stop being blurry, saw enough, cringed and then closed his eye again.

He was on a padded metal table, in what appeared to be a lab.

Waking up at all was a good sign but waking up in a place like this... Not so much.

And knowing that he was in an alternate dimension didn't give him any idea what to expect, from this place. The only thing that Sonic could be reasonably sure of was that nothing in this world should be able to outrun him. And if there had been a way here then there was probably also a way home. It might require collecting magical artifacts or building a spaceship or something but... The only way to find out was to get up and... Sonic mentally asked his aching limbs to consider moving. His aching limbs sulkily told him to get lost.

Sonic opened both eyes and perked two triangular ears. There were humans entering the room now. Feeling a blend of panic and dread, he tried to sit up or at least pull his feet under him. His vital internal organs protested and his feet refused to cooperate.

The humans wore long white lab coats. That was the main thing. But... That was, actually, also the only thing that Sonic was focused on. If he hadn't been in the midst of panic stricken negotiations with himself then he might have also noticed that these people... Were just people. Not robots. Not half robots. Not followed by robots. Not carrying guns. Not carrying other weapons. Not holding threatening looking tools. Not laughing like evil maniacs or making corny threats. In casual friendly tones, the humans spoke to each other. Sonic heard them and stopped in mid-negotiation with himself. What was this language? He'd traveled across space and time and had never hit a serious language barrier before. But he couldn't understand these people. What kind of people were they?! How was he supposed to get help finding a way home if nobody in this dimension...?

And these people weren't scared of him. Or even startled by him. Sonic had made human friends before but they had usually had some kind of a reaction to him, the first time they'd seen him. These people... One of them was a geeky looking guy, he held a totally non-threatening coffee cup. The other one was a geeky looking girl, she was already bent back over her computer keyboard and typing away. Sonic was laying on a table between their work stations and they had barely glanced at him.

Sonic blinked and took a better look around. Including a better look at himself.

He wasn't scarred. Or bruised. Or mangled. He might have broken something, while falling into this dimension but nothing even felt broke. There weren't any ominous jars labeled 'unknown specimen sample' or 'project hedgehog' laying around. No charts or x-rays of his anatomy were pinned up anywhere. It didn't seem that anything had been taken out or cut off... Or added. That was a risk, in some places. But Sonic wasn't, in his own opinion, a new species and he wasn't half cyborg. He wasn't full of tubes or wires. Sonic was missing his shoes and his gloves and that was all. And it took a few extra moments just to realize that because he was so accustomed to seeing the gloves and the shoes that he couldn't believe, right away, that he was not seeing them. But they were gone.

The people around him talked and just the way they talked... Without understanding a word of it, Sonic doubted that he was even a part of their conversation.

And the lab... Sonic wasn't much for interior decorating but he had noticed that most of the labs that he'd ever been in - or, more precisely, that he'd ever gotten out of - were kind of dark and metallic and cluttered. Even his great friend, Tails, tended to let all the tools and spare parts pile up when a project was underway. But this place... It was clean. It was tidy. It was almost cheerful. The walls had been tastefully painted. The floor had a carpet. There were no mechanical parts or suspicious looking trapdoors or dusty corners. There was a bookshelf against one wall, a tall leafy potted plant by the door, two workstations and the table. And the workstations were decorated with little personal touches - photos of smiling children and action figure keychains and cartoon panels that had probably been cut out of magazines. And Sonic could see all of this because there were functional lamps as well as natural lighting.

There were windows. You could see the outside world. And from here, the outside world didn't look awful either. And Sonic wasn't tied down or anything. It wouldn't have taken a fraction of a heartbeat for the blue hedgehog to escape, under normal circumstances. But he'd gone from running at top speed just for the sheer fun of it to slamming into somewhere that hadn't been there a second ago. Sonic sighed. His body was - amazingly, all things considered - not physically hurt but he was not going to be able to convince it that moving was a great idea for awhile. The body could be like a computer, Tails had explained to him once, if you shut it off suddenly then it might take a while to get it restarted. And jumping from one dimension to another, even accidentally... There was an effect comparable to jet lag which didn't always strike but when it did... You couldn't rush the recovery.

Sonic tried to be patient.

He squinted at the bookshelf. Some of the books were wide. Sonic could see the writing on the binding - but he couldn't read it. He also couldn't read the writing on the photos, the cartoons or the computer screens. He tried to speak, just to see how the humans would react, and discovered that he couldn't.

The geeks in lab coats eventually took notice of Sonics bad reaction to this discovery. And the humans responded by taking, in order, his photo and then his temperature. And they took his temperature by gently prodding him in the side with something that looked like a chopstick. Chatting in casual voices the entire time. The guy, still holding his coffee cup, leaned into the hallway and said something - it must have been a question. There was a reply from someone out of view, down the hall. The lady heard this, nodded, put on some padded gloves and gently lifted the twitching blue hedgehog. She carried Sonic held out at arms length and because she was kind of short and petite, it was a bit of a strain for her.

_Great._ Sonic thought, I_ can't move and this is going to be the part where these humans go psycho, I bet._

The lady said something, the guy rushed to hold a door open for her and... Sonic blinked. They'd just gone outside.

He was plunked, completely unharmed but shoe-and-gloveless, in some tall grass on a sunny hillside. The lady in the lab coat smiled, patted him on the head, said a few things that he did not understand in a friendly voice, did a half-bow, watched him for a moment with a cheerful-but-concerned expression and then shrugged to herself and went back indoors.

Bewildered would have been an understatement that you could have parked a jet on.

Sonic stared at the building and wondered if the humans were watching from the window. Maybe not. They hadn't seemed all that interested in him, to begin with. _Where is this place?_

**ooxoo**

**W**elcome to the PokeMon League.

But the sign that said that was old and faded and half falling down. It was an antique. A piece of history. And it was on display, in this building.

The League Museum was a popular location for field trips. Today, there were two classes taking the tour. The children were escorted by a dozen parents, three mildly concerned teachers, a rather nervous young historian and what appeared to be a mad scientist. A woman. Middle-aged. Bright hair, often a bit tousled. She wore a short one-piece dress and a long slightly tattered lab coat with the slogan 'I heart brains' printed on the back. She had striped socks that went up past her knees and heavy glasses with rhinestone-studded frames that sat crookedly on her face. She often wore a second pair of glasses, perched atop her head as if she'd forgotten they were there. She was not, in fact, a mad scientist but had figured out that acting like one was a good way to keep peoples attention. Which was important, when you were teaching. Her appearance and general manner were the reasons that the other teachers were mildly concerned and she was one of the museum curators, which was why the apprentice historian was nervous. But the parents were chatting with each other and the kids were mostly listening and that was all that mattered.

"A hundred years ago..." She sang, as she skipped ahead of the crowd. "Or maybe it was more..."

"People were idiots!" The children had learned this song only today but it was because of lyrics like this that they had learned the song quickly. They were skipping along after her and giggling as they joined in. Well, most of them. A few of the kids were slagging behind, grumbling that they were too cool for this sort of childish behavior.

The Curator turned expectantly, she had written this song. People seemed to pay more attention to songs. It was an educational argument, it made some valid points. And it was historically accurate. "And why were they idiots?"

A forest of hands were waved. She pointed to one.

"Cause they wanted to catch everything!" Came the off-key answer.

"But they didn't take care of it!" Chimed in another keen student.

The Curator rewarded them by making a great show of pretending to be surprised. "They didn't take care of it?!"

All around them was the evidence, the exhibits. The origins of pokemon collecting had grown cloudly with the passing of time - who had started this trend? But the result... For a time, humans had prospered. They had been responsible. But as the trend grew... Once, nearly everyone on the planet had wanted to be a pokemon trainer. Which meant more people stomping around in the wilderness, capturing and domesticating formerly wild animals. Which meant less wild animals. And that, by itself, had been a catastrosphe. Because nearly every single one of the animals had served functions in the world. Abruptly removing large numbers of those animals from the wild had caused everything from more pollution to crop failure, disease outbreaks and the increased likelihood of certain natural disasters. PLUS humanity had been going through a greedy phase, so the idea of 'gotta catch them all' had lead to a large number of trainers owning far more creatures than they could reasonably afford to take decent care - or any care at all - of. And the animals HAD needed care because the shock... The transition had not been good to them. Being captured was a complete change in lifestyle. Animals had gone from surviving in the wild - sometimes on their own but sometimes as part of a wild herd - to being part of a mixed group expected to take orders from a human. Suddenly depending on humans for food and shelter and social interaction... Plus all the hazards of travel, the changes in climate and habitat and diet and the increased exposure to germs... Not the mention the strains and injuries of constant battle and training...

Really, was it any wonder that the pokemon had rapidly begun going extinct?

The numbers remained indefinite. Research could only guess how many animals there had actually once been. According to League records there had been a period where more than a thousand separate pokemon species had been officially recognized. More than a thousand that could have been found in the wild. From all accounts it sounded as if people had wandered outside and practically tripped on the animals, that's how abundant they had been. No special training had been needed to locate most of the species.

"But they died! Died! Died!" The children who were singing always liked the chorus.

The Curator stood by a framed painting. The artwork depicted a man, clearly a scientist, in his work uniform. He was standing and looking up. His whole body posture and expression - the artist had done such a wonderful job - conveyed the notion of: 'gosh, maybe this was a rather stupid idea'. There were just the slightest subtle hints of a large and dark shadow falling over him. "And who is this idiot?" She intoned, working her questions into the song. "What happened to him?"

The children hardly needed to study the painting. The shadow falling over the man had a certain shape. "Eaten by a dinosaur!"

"Very good!" The Curator clapped and moved on.

Reincarnating prehistoric creatures from fossils had been a questionable practice to begin with. How could a prehistoric creature be expected to adapt to a modern world? The dinosaurs had gone extinct for a reason. The air and water quality had changed. The climate had changed. The plants had changed. The primitive foodsources had died out. What was the point in reincarnating something if you couldn't feed it? At least three different human companies had - separately and for separate reasons - pursued the experiment anyway. The initial results had been mixed but yes, more than a few of the maybe-not-so-brilliant scientists had also been eaten. So the conclusion had always been the same. Dinosaurs had gotten to go extinct twice.

Which was not actually uncommon, that was the sad thing. Most other pokemon species had also gone extinct twice. Some had gone extinct three times. First, they'd gone extinct but only in the wild. Trainers might still own a few members of a species but regular people - and even trained wildlife experts - suddenly couldn't find the creature in the wild anymore. Second, they'd gone extinct everywhere. Not even trainers had them anymore. Third would happen when some genius gathered a few bones or scraps of fur from a deceased pokemon. Because once a scientist got a tissue sample, they could make a clone. Or a fossil. And the problem then was very simple: the scientists were attempting to reincarnate something that had been trained.

Pokemon had forgotten how to be wild. And pokemon had gone extinct in the wild first, so finding samples to reincarnate the wild ones from was beyond rare. Humanity couldn't repair the natural world with something that didn't know how to survive there anymore - but they'd tried. Science had taken the samples from trained pokemon. And worse, the clones... Had been trained not just for parlor tricks but for battle. Sometimes also for other forms of competition. So they were far stronger, in most cases, than the original wild pokemon had ever been. And as a result... When released into the wild, the reincarnated pokemon had done more harm than good. They had also been more hostile towards humans. Because the reincarnated pokemon had expected for humans to take care of them, not leave them out in the wild to fend for themselves but when the humans did just that... History recorded a number of small towns and villages - and at least two major cities - that had been demolished by the rampaging creatures. This had often lead to the humans having to battle, defeat and destroy the very same pokemon that they had worked so hard to reincarnate.

But that had been at least a hundred years ago. And the impact had reached beyond the natural world, to the financial one.

It was hard to make the children these days understand just how thoroughly a simple trend had saturated an entire global culture. Pokemon had not just been wild animals and battle partners. The First Trainers had, probably, set out on an adventure in the wild. A walk in the woods. But... An entire industry had sprung up from that adventure. And the many trainers that had followed in that path, as the trend grew, had trampled it. The simple adventure had become a worldwide obsession. Pokemon had become living collectibles.

People of all ages and from all walks of life had dug up ancient ruins, hiked across mountains, dived into ocean trenches, chopped through forests, melted glaciers, descended into active volcanos and climbed through incredibly elaborate - but apparently natural - cave mazes in search of the animals. Humans had gone to outer space, at least once, to search the stars for more of the animals. People had developed an increasing variety of pokeballs to capture the animals with and ways to store the creatures inside computers. Live animals had been turned into binary code. People had developed ways to instantly teach an animal a technique and potions that could boost an aspect of the animals personality or strength. They had written books and magazines, created movies and music and television shows. There had been entire art galleries full of nothing but pokemon photographs, paintings and sculpture. There had been acres of pokemon inspired merchandise: toys, clothes and furniture had all taken on pokemon themes. The craze had worked its way into every niche. There had been pokemon lunchboxes and notebooks and greeting cards and toothbrushes and... All that. And more.

Moving services and postal services and military services - everyone had found a use for the creatures. Electric companies had plugged them into the power grid. Water and mining companies had used them to alter weather, change the flows of rivers and build tunnels. Humans had opened pokemon daycares and breeding centers and farms and restaurants. They had opened pokemon fan clubs and training clubs and beauty salons and supply stores and theme parks and casinos. Humans had held pokemon races, declared pokemon holidays, organized pokemon festivals and had arranged for all sorts of pokemon competitions. Trainers had opened the Gyms, Battle Tents and Contest Halls to challenge each other. Pokemon had gotten better hospitals than humans had built for themselves.

For the best trainers - the most skilled and dedicated - they had created the PokeMon League. It had started as a historian, some scientists and a few corporate investors but the Trainers had quickly become members, too. The League had become the central authority on all pokemon issues, setting the rules and standards. And so when the trend took off... In terms of influence and income the League had almost immediately rivaled the world governments. The League had, at its peak, had their own police force and their own mass transit systems and more than eighty official Gyms.

When the pokemon had started to go extinct... There had been some people crying out for the need to repair and respect nature but the louder cry had been the economic one. If pokemon no longer existed... All the industries that relied on the trainers to be good customers and all the businesses who profited from the animals because the animals didn't have to be paid as much, to do the labor... To shut all that down, even to just reform and cut back... Would have caused the majority of the world population to become unemployed. And all the children at that time would have questioned the value of their schooling because by then pokemon training had become a regular topic in education at every level and a common feature of even fairly small science labs. People had devoted their whole lives to studying the animals. Even the jobs that were not famous for being pokemon related had found a way to use the creatures. With so many places using the animals... Trainers had generally started out as kids but could grow up to become anything because suddenly all the jobs in the world had welcomed - and required - pokemon handling skills. The trend had been a fabulous social movement, in that regard. Many trainers had started life in modest or impoverished conditions, training pokemon had allowed those people to reach academic and career goals that might not have been available to them otherwise. But the strain on nature had been too great.

So the clones had been rushed into production, to try and support the status quo. And the clones, the reincarnations, had been imperfect. And the ones that hadn't ended up assaulting humanity had gotten sick and gone extinct, for the last time. Except...

The off-key melody of several children - and all of them seemed to believe that the song was set to a different tune - echoed down a corridor as they followed the Curator. "The rocks! The ghosts! The insects!"

Not all of the species had gone extinct. A few still existed, even in the wild. They weren't abundant anymore and tended to avoid humans at all costs but, for better or worse, they were still out there. Well, no. Not quite. The ghosts WERE abundant. What could anyone expect? Everything else dying had increased the ghost population. And the ghosts didn't try to avoid humanity, that was more a case of vice versa. And the surviving insects had used the passing of at least a century to recover their numbers. But the scattered rock types were still struggling.

Yet there was hope, even beyond what anyone could have expected. There was news that wild Rattata had been sighted in a distant prairie - but that hadn't been confirmed yet. And there were rumors of Magikarp being seen in the oceans again but no one had confirmed that either. And there were ancient legends about...well...ancient legendary pokemon but nobody really believed in those anymore. Nobody currently alive had ever seen them. Well, okay. More like: nobody currently alive, sane and sober would admit to having seen them. Modern society regarded the legends as just old fairytales, something that someone had made up a very long time ago - and possibly for entertainment value alone.

Of course, there were also the man-made pokemon to consider. Young people sometimes wondered why those pokemon should be extinct. That was an ugly patch of history.

Digital species like Ditto and Porgon had been made deliberately. The first unique pokemon to be built - well, programmed - by humankind. When pokemon had been turned to binary and stored in computers, that's when these species had first been made. Since these species hadn't exactly depended on nature - even Ditto had lived as a program inside computers more often than as an animal out in the world - those had thrived for a while. Then they'd been wiped out by a strange combination of biological disease and computer malfunction. Something called the pokerus virus, which could actually be a benefitial disease in very small amounts, had mutated and developed a lethal new strain. And since the virus had taken on traits from Ditto in particular, the disease could now adapt to any attempts to contain it. This had been disasterous. A prolonged global blackout had been the result. When the computers shut down, the data was lost. Parts of the data had gradually been recovered but the digital creatures were gone. It was no longer legal to build animals this way. The pokerus was considered irreversible and the only way to avoid the semi-digital virus doing massive amounts of damage to all levels of the world communications was to avoid building digital animals. Not even criminals wanted to mess with this. They liked to have access to the modern techology. Shutting it all down would not help them reach their goals.

There were the accidentally man-made pokemon to account for, as well. Creatures like Grimer and Gulpin, who had thrived on pollution and human waste. However those had been wiped out when the environment had finally been cleaned up.

Yes. The environment had finally been cleaned up although that was, tada, an ongoing project. But because of the man-made pokemon... And all the clones and reincarnated fossils... The technology had been in place. Perhaps it had been inevitable. With so many people and businesses relying on pokemon... The idea had occurred: if we can't save the existing species then maybe we should just make new ones? We'll make them better, stronger, more adaptable and disease-resistant and non-digital and...

It had taken many years of frantic experiments to achieve. Because humanity had to be careful. All the existing genetic samples that science had access to were from trained pokemon. Humanity had learned a few hard lessons after the hostile reincarnated pokemon had destroyed, among other things, two major cities. At least.

Were people still idiots? The Curator wasn't sure. The approach seemed to be working, so far.

The League still existed but it had been scaled back, as had the whole pokemon industry. Humans had gradually resumed much of the workload that pokemon had, for a while, been entrusted with. Businesses had switched back to other themes. The animals were rarely mentioned in school these days, outside of history and ecology classes.

Currently there were nineteen confirmed wild pokemon species. An additional hundred or so genetically modified species were registered as active. The League had to approve of each new species, as it was made. And none of these new animals were being released to the wild or built in huge quantities. Some were sold to businesses but most were eventually adopted out.

Two classes were visiting the museum today. None of these kids were trainers. Most of them didn't want to be, either.

Being a trainer was hard work, anymore. The system had changed. A lot. Once, people had just stepped outside and claimed their creatures. Maybe they would have been lent a creature or given a creature and then set out to capture others. Nowadays it was a formal process akin to applying for a scholarship. A kid wanting to become a trainer had to have good grades, good references, be given a bill of clean health by a licensed doctor, pass a criminal background check, do a set amount of community service, take some animal care courses, have their legal guardians sign some waivers and all but sign a contract themselves - and that was just to get their first pokemon.

If a trainer wanted to have a second pokemon then, in order to legally earn that privilege, they had to defeat a registered Gym Leader. Which meant defeating all the Gym Assistants first. With nothing but the first pokemon, for help. And the Gym Leaders operated by different rules these days. There was not allowed to be any such thing as a draw, for starts. Battles continued until they were won or lost. And if a trainer lost against a Gym then there was not allowed to be an immediate chance for the trainer to try and challenge the same Gym again.

And the right to keep a third or fourth pokemon had to be earned in basically the same way.

If a trainer was feeling brave and wanted to keep five or more pokemon, they had to challenge the League Champions. And what the League Champions did, these days, was supervise. They were the judges and referees. Challenging the League was no longer just another sort of Gym battle. The League required a trainer to be willing and able to battle their own pokemon. A trainer who truly knew and cared for their animal friends, the League reasoned, would find a way to prevail.

The reward was a career. Any trainer who survived the Challenge would be invited to become a member of the League. And that was a full-time job because even with the number of registered trainers severely dimished from what it had once been - the League monitored all of them. The League reserved the right to take pokemon away from any trainer at any time, if the trainers behavior warranted such an intervention. The League also inspected the Gyms, maintained the historic sites, witnessed Gym Challenges and visited the labs to test the new species. The League helped the police to track down and punish anyone who tried to build, catch, sell, trade or raise a pokemon without their permission.

All nineteen of the confirmed wild species were protected, even the ghosts. All the genetically modified species... Well. They were unique, of course. But the new animals were being built from the genetics of the extinct animals. So to anyone who had studied the history... Most of these creatures were halfway familiar.

**ooxoo**

**"T**AILS! WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU?"

"..vul...?" said a creature that was not, in any way whatsoever, Tails. It was - genetically speaking - what happened when the DNA salvaged from many different extinct pokemon species was successfully combined. Vulpix DNA was the most dominate in this case though, so it did have the appearance of a small fox. It walked on four legs and had wide dark almond shaped eyes. From its other DNA donors... It had golden caramel fur and a pair of long fluffy tails, each of which ended in a curl. And also the pale markings that, if they had been darker and if Sonic had known what he was looking at, might have suggested a feline instead of a fox. There was a white blaze down the muzzle, a white semi-circle under each eye, the paws were pale greyish socks, the underside had a circular patch of white in the area of the stomach and the end of each tail was capped in white. Between the large pointy tufted ears, the creature had long bangs but also a shiny purple dot, as if a small jewel had been embedded into its forehead. The creature blinked up at the blue hedgehog. "vul..per..sian...?"

"THIS IS TERRIBLE!" Sonic paused and realized something. "Hey... I can talk out here..."

The Vulpersian did not care. Nor did it fully understand. It coughed a wall of flame.

"AHHHH!"

Sonic had the speed to sidestep, of course. And his aching body decided, now, to cooperate with the idea of fluid movement. So he wasn't charred. But what surprised him - and the things that surprised him in this world was already becoming a long list - was that the spontaneous wall of flame didn't catch anything else, either. The tall grass around them did not become, for example, a raging wildfire. The grass wilted and smoldered a little and then went out. Had someone designed fireproof grass, of all things? And was the animal a robot? It didn't LOOK like a robot! It didn't ACT like most robots that he'd ever seen before. Sonic had a lot of experience dealing with robots, he was qualified to make this kind of judgement.

What WAS this world?

There was a sign nearby that Sonic couldn't read.

Hence Sonic was wondering, instead, what had happened to his friend? Tails had never coughed a wall of flame before. Not that Sonic could remember, at any rate. And how had Tails gotten pulled into this alternate dimension? Granted, Sonic knew that his friends did sometimes appear in random places for reasons that not even they understood but...

The Vulpersian knew what the sign said but for some inexplicable reason, humans had not given it the vocal chords to say anything more than its own name. So after regarding Sonic for a long moment and wondering why this weird blue animal didn't counter with an attack of its own, the Vulpersian got bored. It started to wander off.

"Hey! Where are you going? Where is this place? Tails?" There was a moderate blur through the grass.

And the sign that Sonic left behind, that he couldn't read, said: New Species Testing Facility.

**ooxoo**

**I**nside the museum, out among the exhibits, she was just another Curator. That was how most of the visitors defined her. She was just a person who worked in this building full of old paperwork, fading photos, tarnished momentos and replica pokemon skeletons built out of plaster. She could answer questions, guide tours and ring up sales in the gift shop.

But to her co-workers...

There was a heavy door, it was hidden behind one of the uglier tapestrys and frequently locked. The Curators did not spend much time in their office when the museum was open. And it was just one office for all of them - which was how they'd wanted to do things - because sharing an office meant that less offices were needed. Which meant more rooms in the museum for exhibits that the public could pay to visit. But the door behind the tapestry, for the people who knew where to find it, was marked with a small rectangular sign.

This sign said: League Historians. Professors C. Yado, G. Yadont, A. Dayoff and D. Notatree.

There was also a scrap of paper that had been taped up beneath that which said: Mr. Frankly, Apprentice Historian.

The middle aged lady, her tattered 'I heart brains' lab coat fluttering behind her as she skipped down the hall and fumbled for her key to the office, was humming. She'd done well. Five minutes ago she'd been outside on the steps, waving goodbye to the departing busloads of children - and they'd still been singing her song. So she'd reached them. The kids might even remember the lesson for a while.

"Carmen!"

She nearly fell over. She hated it when people opened the door _while_ she was trying to unlock it. "Professor." She managed, while staggering into the office. It took a couple of steps to regain her balance.

Professor D. Notatree handed her a photograph. "Look at what the Testing Facility sent us today!"

Professor Carmen Yado accepted the photo. It showed a blue creature. The word 'hedgehog' apparently did not exist in this world. "Huh. New species?"

"Looks that way. They found it unconscious on their doorstep earlier this afternoon, no paperwork."

"Ya don't say..." Carmen muttered, squinting at the photo.

"What?" came the distant voice of Professor G. Yadont, who was across the hall working on an exhibit.

Genetic pokemon were sometimes built illegally, in spite of the Leagues efforts to prevent such things. But should the criminals lose their nerve and... It did happen, occasionally, that a species would get anonymously dropped off at a police station or somewhere. The New Species Testing Facility was, for obvious reasons of security, not a well-advertised location. For someone to have dropped the creature off there... That was unusual.

The criminals would not escape. Because the creature was evidence, it was the best clue. All they had to do was figure out what sort of genetics the animal had been made from and then trace the parts, as it were. The League Historians were good detectives, for these kinds of puzzles. Professor A. Dayoff was the absolute best detective, in fact, but she had a large family and was always taking leave for some reason or another. Her desk sat in the office, it was the cleanest space in the entire room. Under a layer of dust sat the computer, the empty inbox and a little engraved notecard bearing her full name: Professor Anita Dayoff.

The other League Historians didn't mind too much. They were all workaholics.

Carmen turned. "Are there more photos?"

Professor D. Notatree provided a stack of recently-printed pictures. "They've been emailing them over. Did you notice the closeups of the hands and feet? It's rather humanoid, isn't it?"

It was. Each foot had three toes. Each hand had three fingers and a thumb. And the thumbs were opposable. Using human genetics was, tada, extremely illegal. Had someone dared to...? Carmen frowned and stared at the wall of the office where, for convenience, she and her colleagues had painstakingly constructed a sort of giant periodic table of extinct pokemon. There were other possibilities. But... The very few semi-humanoid pokemon, such as the species known as Mr. Mime... According to League records their wild populations had never been very large. So they'd been rare, even while alive. And they were dead, now, which made them a bit rarer. No modern lab that the League currently knew of even had access to genetic materials from those animals.

She looked down at the photo again. Humanoid or not, it was a new animal. "Definitely part Sandslash. But what about the blue?"

"Frankly, I think it could be part Poliwag." said Professor. D. Notatree.

"Huh?" Young Mr. Frankly lifted the tapestry and peered in through the office doorway. He was holding a bright faux featherduster and pushing a cart of cleaning tools. Being the apprentice also meant being the janitor, to a certain extent. The museum didn't have the budget that it used to. "Uhm. Did you call me?"

Poliwag... Carmen located the image on the periodic table of extinct pokemon. Ah yes. The little round water creature. It was blue, had no neck and large eyes. It had long arms and legs and oval shaped feet. But poliwag wasn't entirely blue. The front was a circle of white that went up to its beak and... Carmen looked back at the photo. The blue sandslash had a tawny muzzle and a circle of tawny fur on its stomach. The blue sandslash had no visible neck, large eyes, long arms and legs and oval shaped feet. Poliwag even evolved into a creature with hands and the blue sandslash had hands. Mystery solved. But what should they call this new species? Polislash? Sandwag? What if it had influences from other genetics as well?

"Any notes about behavior?" Carmen asked, ignoring the apprentice.

Professor D. Notatree consulted his email. "They found it unconscious. They brought it inside, checked its blood pressure and temperature and photographed it. When the creature woke up, it seemed groggy so they put it outside for fresh air and sunshine. It seems to be recovering well. It walks upright and doesn't make much noise. That's the latest. But they've promised to keep us posted."

**ooxoo**

**S**onic, now mildly charred, was determined not to let the Vulpersian wander off. And since the small creature was not capable of outrunning him... It was tucked, firmly, under one blue arm. And scowling. With it's ears flattened back. And fur bristling.

Deep down Sonic had already confronted the idea that maybe this animal was not, in any way whatsoever, Tails. BUT... This animal did look rather a lot like Tails. Except that it had wide dark eyes and walked on all fours and didn't speak and had a small circular jewel embedded into the center of its forehead. Still. Sonic had glimpsed a few other strange animals in the tall grass by now - and he had no idea what any of them were - but, as far as he could tell, none of them had looked like Tails. And so if this was the only one that looked like Tails... Well, stranger things had happened. And so, just until Sonic knew for sure where his friend was or if his friend was even in this dimension... Yea. He was not putting the animal down. It had spat flames at him, which Tails generally did not do. But Sonic did not want to find out if it could rotate its twin tails and fly, which Tails could do.

One comforting fact had been confirmed, at least: the creature was definitely not a robot. When - or if - you ever picked a robot up, you did not feel the muscles beneath the fur. No. You felt the gears beneath the fur. If there was fur at all.

"sian!" hissed the Vulpersian, around a mouthful of Sonics arm.

That was the other thing about robots, they didn't usually have teeth. Some of them had big square mechanically-driven chomping teeth but not usually little triangular razors.

Normally, Sonic might have run in circles while flailing his arms and screaming in pain. But he actually had a fairly high threshold for pain - something he'd acquired through years of winning battles and falling off cliffs - and nothing about this world had struck him as very normal yet. So he flinched, glared down at the maybe-Tails and kept walking.

It was easier, to just assume the creature WAS Tails. Sonic had been to more than a few dimensions. And he'd traveled time. With that kind of experience in his past - and possibly also in his future, time travel did that... Rationalizing that his friend had somehow been dragged to this place and turned in a mildly grouchy fire-breathing bundle of fur... Or maybe this dimension was actually a parallel universe and so this was the version of Tails native to... Basically, it was not difficult to rationalize and jump to conclusions. Sonic had no idea if these conclusions were correct but they made sense to him and that was all he wanted, for now. After all Sonic had, in his diverse travels, met other versions of himself.

Would he perhaps meet a version of himself in this world?

It was always hard to know what to say, when that happened.

Sonic was walking. This was rare. He preferred running. But he was new to this dimension and he couldn't read the signs. So he had no clue where he was or where he'd end up, if he just ran off. And even that might not have stopped him. The blue hedgehog had explored entire worlds without asking for directions before but... He'd had shoes, then. This area here, this tall grass - that was okay. But the world beyond the tall grass... What if it was all jagged rocks or overheated pavement or broken glass or noxious tar pits or something? Sonic relied on his feet. He wasn't going to neglect them. Shoes weren't much protection, maybe, but they were better than nothing. A foot injury would more than cramp his style, it would slow him down. That was unacceptable.

Besides, it kind of weirded him out to see his own toes. Sonic wasn't accustomed to seeing his feet. That's how much he wore shoes.

Truth be told, his hands bothered him less. Because he had phantom glove pains. His brain just plain refused to fully acknowledge that the gloves were missing. Some part of his memory was... It was hard to describe because Sonic didn't even consciously know that he was doing this. But he still felt like he was actually wearing the gloves, even though he wasn't. Sonic was maybe around the age of fifteen - and that was an open debate because time travel and space travel and running at ridiculously high speeds and jumping between dimensions had all affected the way that he aged, and sometimes it seemed that he didn't age or that he aged in reverse - but he might have been born wearing the white gloves. No one was sure.

And so, because the brain was in denial and the gloves were not being missed, his focus was on the need for new shoes. And since his destination was nearby, he could walk.

The building came into view among the grass and flowers. It wasn't much to look at, from the outside.

Sonic hated to return to the laboratory where he'd first woken up in this dimension. However it was close by and he'd seen the inside and as far as labratories went, it was not terrible. Mostly, though, there were humans inside. And humans wore shoes. Sonic couldn't offer to buy anything. Even if he'd had a wallet with him, it wasn't likely to be full of money and also not full of whatever passed for money in this place. The blue hedgehog was a great warrior. He was either much respected or much feared, among those who knew him but he wasn't rich. He'd hardly ever been rich. So... Well. Maybe he could work and earn some shoes? Or maybe just borrow some? Maybe the humans had an extra pair that they wouldn't miss? Hopefully, it would be something in his size. And red, he liked for his shoes to be red. And if they could be made of a material that would not catch fire or disintegrate at high speeds...

He reached the front doors, paused, braced himself and - with the grumpy Vulpersian still attached to his arm - knocked.

Tearing the door off its hinges or just spinning through the barrier was never a great idea if you were going to ask for a favor.

Eventually the door opened a crack. A geeky human peeked out and then, after a moment, down. The geek regarded Sonic with visible surprise but opened the door further. It spoke to him in mildly amused tones and he had no idea what it said.

Another human in a white lab coat joined the first by the door. Soon there was a whole group, peering down with mildly concerned grins and talking to each other. But, it has to pointed out, all these geeky humans were of course wearing more than just lab coats. The lab coats were a type of uniform, perhaps it identified them all as working here. Beneath the lab coats... The humans dressed like college students. Some were neat and some were kind of rumpled. Some wore suits but some were in t-shirts and jeans. And none of them - not even the ones with abstract logos on their shirts or ties - seemed really threatening. And Sonic was more interested in their shoes. So he was looking at their feet. Hrm. Sandals, dress shoes, high heels, boots and hey... Someone was wearing slippers to work? What did it take to get a decent pair of sneakers around here?

The blue hedgehog tried to express this and, for some reason, couldn't. This was annoying. Why did his vocal chords shut down around people? Was there some kind of weird natural law in this dimension about not communicating with humans? Why? Sonic didn't speak the local language. These humans probably wouldn't have understood him. But it would have been nice, to be able to try and make them understand.

A decision had been reached in the doorway. Four of the humans bowed and stepped cautiously out of the building. With long strides - typical for humans - they surrounded him and knelt in the grass. Three had put on padded gloves, one was carrying a first aid kid. If they hadn't seemed so darn friendly, Sonic might have just run away or at least kicked them. He gave them warning stares and nearly took off anyway. But the human nearest to the disgruntled Vulpersian was already gently prying the little fox off his arm. O-kay. So their intentions were maybe not horrible.

The Vulpersian allowed the humans to coax it into releasing its hold on a mouthful of arm. Vulpersian was tempted to torch a certain weird blue creature but it was also intelligent enough to recognize that doing so at this range would harm the nearby humans. And harming humans was not a good idea. Aside from a certain level of genetic programming, the Vulpersian had been at the testing facility for more than a week. Vulpersian had seen for itself what could happen to the animals that attacked humans here. And Vulpersian had been educated, it had been taught that the only times it was allowed to attack a human was during a League Challenge. There were exceptions in the ethics code but most of those involved attacking one human in order to defend other humans.

So, although the Vulpersian radiated hostility, it recoiled with care. And when the weird blue creature grabbed it by a tail, it suppressed the desire to cough a wall of flame in defense.

The humans in the doorway were filming this and whispering to each other. Sonic heard them but didn't understand them. Vulpersian, however, did.

Among the most audible whispers were: "Awww..." "Wow!" "How cute!" "Cute nothing, this is amazing!" "Take more pictures!" "Are you getting all this?" "Hey! Come and look!" "The blue one is training the Vulpersian!" "Are you serious?!" "What a strange behavior..."

Training? A trainer?! The tall blue animal was a TRAINER?! Vulpersian flattened its large tufted ears back further and glared at the animal gripping one of its tails. "Vul." It sneered with a reddish glint in its eyes. Vulpersian did NOT want to be trained by this animal. Trainers were supposed to be human!

Vulpersian blinked. It stared at the blue creature with growing anxiety. The blue creature walked upright. The blue creature had hands instead of paws or fins or talons or wings. The blue creature...was humanish. And the humans...were taking care of it.

_Oh no,_ thought the Vulpersian, _I've attacked a trainer!_

It promptly fell over, wearing a glazed expression and rolling to its back with its stubby legs in the air.

The amount of whispers in the doorway increased, as did the amount of spectators: "Wow!" "Did you SEE that!" "No way!" "Did you SEE THAT?!" "Vulpersian surrendered!" "No way!" "Take more pictures!"

Sonic had no idea what the people were saying. He had no idea why the fox appeared to be playing dead. He was grateful for the bandages that the humans had wrapped over the bite mark and for the lotion that seemed to cure the burns he'd gotten but... He was more interested in trying to ask for shoes. And since he couldn't just ask, this meant pointing at his feet a lot and then pointing at the shoes that people were wearing. This charade went unnoticed for a while and then, once he finally had some peoples attention, only made the humans laugh.

Maybe the humans thought the charade was some kind of primitive victory dance. Vulpersian did, a vein of irritation twitched on its forehead.

The humans patted Sonic on the head, grinned, took a few more photos, bowed and then went back inside. Where they picked up phones and sent out emails, to share the strange news with the rest of the League.

"Hey..." Sonic paused. Now that the doors were closed and the humans were gone, his vocal chords were back. He was still barefoot. He thought about knocking again but was distracted by the distinct feeling that several dozen eyes were watching him. And not just from the windows of the building.

Vulpersian hopped to its feet, exhaled some smoke from its nostrils and with a gleam in its eyes - and another gleam, from the shiny jewel on its brow - growled at the rustling tall grass.

**ooxoo**

**"N**o way!" said Professor D. Notatree, who was checking his email.

Carmen looked up from her cluttered desk. This required her to stand on her chair, to be seen over the stacks of assorted historical objects and paperwork that included several dozen handmade thank-you notes from small children with bad spelling. "Hrm? More news? Or did you finally win the lottery?"

"The blue creature defeated Vulpersian!" exclaimed Professor D. Notatree.

"Ya don't say..." drawled Carmen.

A clatter across the hallway and a distant. "What?"

The office door was still open, they liked to leave it open after business hours. The museum was closed to the public for the day and that gave the historians a chance to try and get caught up on their research and other tasks - like paying the museum bills and negotiating funding and planning special lectures. Or build new exhibits, like poor Professor G. Yadont was trying to do.

"Wasn't Vulpersian one of the undefeated species?" Carmen settled back into her chair.

Professor D. Notatree sent a blank look in his colleagues direction. "There is no such thing as an undefeated species."

"Oh." Carmen put her feet up on her desk, "Right." She leafed through some paperwork and scribbled notes in the margin. "Just wanted to be sure you were paying attention."

Vulpersian was genetically built. It was mostly a fire type but had other noteworthy skills. However it was, also, a new species. There was only one Vulpersian, so far. The League was aware of Vulpersian but they had not approved of the animal yet. It had to be tested and inspected and challenged, before the League would give permission for more to be made. Vulpersian had, so far, done well in the tests but it was not undefeated. That was all right. No species was. Someone had tried to design an undefeatable species once. The resulting animal had died of boredom.

"But the blue creature defeated Vulpersian by acting sort of human!" said Professor D. Notatree.

Carmen blinked, tried to imagine this, couldn't and then stood on her chair again. "How so? I mean... Did it smack Vulpersian with a rolled up newspaper or what?"

"The blue one grabbed Vulpersian by a tail and stared at it! And went to the labs for help to pry Vulpersians jaw off its arm! This animal even _knocked on the front door_!" Professor D. Notatree was clicking away furiously, the printer in the office hummed as it began to spit out the most recent batch of photos. "How did it know which door was the front door?! Who could have built...?!"

Genetically assembled new species were not always this smart. Illegally made ones, even less so. And the League Historians were currently assuming that the blue sandslash-thing was an illegally built pokemon because it hadn't come with paperwork. There was no record of it having been registered with the League.

"That IS mysterious." Carmen admitted, wondering if this meant the blue sandslash was part psychic type or something. Maybe the stare had been an attack?

Vulpersian was not undefeated - but it also did not have a reputation for surrendering.

"Oh dear..." Carmen added, realization dawning.

If a pokemon accepted another pokemon as a trainer... That made things complicated, under the current regulations for actual human trainers. Because each time a human trainer wanted to add a new pokemon to their team, they had to defeat a Gym. Or the League. And so... Unless Vulpersian was separated quickly from the mysterious new blue animal before any bonds of loyalty could be formed... Then the only humans who could adopt two pokemon at once... Would be the trainers who had defeated at least three Gyms with less than three pokemon. Trainers who, in other words, had earned the right to grow their team but not used it. And there weren't many of those.

Professor Dearson Notatree was scowling. He hated it when people used his old college nickname: dear. People had always laughed... He hadn't ever chosen to be a Dearson but his parents had been eccentric and they'd liked the sound of it. And he did owe some measure of his success to his strange name because he'd been motivated to achieve a level of isolation via becoming a workaholic just to avoid having to do formal introductions. Brilliant though he could be, he hadn't ever thought of getting his named changed.

A ping from the computer speakers signaled the arrival of another new email. The typing was in all capital letters and it was rare for the people at the New Species Testing Facility to express their excitement this way. Professor D. Notatree nearly jumped out of his chair in surprise when he read the short note, quickly sharing that excitement. "Oh! The blue one and Vulpersian are working together!"

The attached photos were mostly of flames and blurs.

Pokemon were designed for battle. It was not unusual for them to fight - it happened all the time, even at the testing facility. Heck, it was PART of the test for new species. That was WHY the facility existed. That was WHY nobody was trying to stop the fight. The genetic pokemon were built one species at a time, all over the world and by all sorts of different companies. And every company had their own tests and intentions for the animals, of course. But the only reliable way to find out how a species would hold up and behave in the real world was to stick the animal out into a controlled part of the real world. In the same place as some other pokemon types. The test facility existed for that purpose - it had been based off the model of an ancient place known as the Safari Zone. All the registered species got sent to the testing facility, at some point. They had a couple of resident pokemon roaming around in the meadows and all the new species and sometimes, a League Champion would visit and let their team loose. And so all that the scientists at the test facility had to do was watch and take detailed notes. The test facility sent reports back to the companies that were engineering the creatures, could recommend a species for approval or rejection to the League and also published an annual consumers guide for business owners and trainers.

There were hundreds of criteria that the new pokemon species were graded on. Intelligence, function, durability, mobility... Even cuteness was taken into consideration since a lot of trainers and businesses had expressed that preference. This was why the new genetic pokemon didn't often speak human languages. The animals did not always have good things to say about humankind. Thus speaking skills tended to make things awkward and generally put a crimp in the creatures overall cuteness rating.

Customization was another cuteness factor. Most of the genetically engineered pokemon could be ordered in different sizes and colors from the default design. After all, this was a business for the geneticists. They had to do some customer service. If a trainer or a company wanted a pokemon to be big enough for a person to ride on or some color that nature may have never intended - ultra neon glow-in-the-dark purple, for example - then it could be done. If someone wanted a logo genetically tattooed on the pokemons side or a pokemon who could recite the company slogan or for their version of the animal to have a couple extra tails or a few extra horns or comically oversized eyes or whatever - why not? As long as people were paying for it and as long as people were willing to live with the creature and as long as the animals were in fact ABLE to live with such changes - why not?

Default pokemon were, to the trainers who had earned them, free. The League paid for default-style pokemon. Customization cost extra. And it was profitable. People who went to all the trouble of earning a pokemon these days didn't seem to mind spending a little extra, to get it - ahem - tricked out. And when people were spending their hard-earned money to get a pokemon to look or sound a certain way, they wanted for the alterations to be permanent. So customization had eliminated the need for the new pokemon species to have transformations - which by itself had saved the genetics companies a fortune.

The advent of customization had also - and this is very important to understand - eliminated breeding. Companies survived by selling the new animals to trainers and other businesses. The animals were their products. The companies could not afford to allow their products to reproduce. Hence the new animals were without gender. Sometimes the new animals got called 'he' or 'she' by their trainers just because 'it' seemed so impersonal... But they were all 'it'. This development had made regulating the industry and enforcing the rules a LOT easier for the League and didn't bother the trainers, who no longer had to take lengthy walks just to see what would hatch from an egg or something.

Yet as much demand as there was for customizing... Perhaps nothing ranked higher on the desirable trait list than basic teamwork. And the illegally built blue sandslash thing was now apparently demonstrating that quality. And Vulpersian was defending what it had accepted as a trainer. So much for breaking those two up without a fight.

Carmen sighed. "Dang." The puzzle was getting more complex.

Who could have designed the blue sandslash? The known criminal organizations were not usually interested in making illegal animals with any degree of quality. Genetically engineering a halfway intelligent and durable new animal was expensive and time-consuming. That's why criminals gave up, more often than not. That's why illegally constructed - and sometimes even the legally constructed - new species sometimes got abandoned.

"Oooo! Nice!" exclaimed Professor D. Notatree, clicking away at his computer.

The scientists at the testing facility had given up on trying to capture the battle with still photos and were now sending out links to a live streaming video feed of the fight in progress. They had even set it to music. Sonic might have been amused to know that his main attack was being named the Swift Bouncing Rollout and that educated people around the globe were now debating whether he was a flying type but he had no idea.

Vulpersian used one of the attacks that it had been designed for - Flaming Payday - and this, once the colorful smoke cleared, caused a sparkly shower of coins to appear out of nowhere and rain down on its opponent. Yea. Nobody was quite sure how the company had managed to design this creature. Where did the coins come from? Should they count as forgeries? The government was investigating this. The Department of the Treasury was concerned about inflation and the lawmakers of the world wanted to pass a tax on any money that magically appeared. The creature was pushing the limits of legality, as far as the government was concerned. Despite this Vulpersian was expected to be VERY popular in the business world and beyond, if the League and the government could ever be persuaded to approve of the species. Currently, Vulpersian was funding the real-estate expansion of the testing facility and was also a generous donor to several charitable causes. The people who had painstaking built the animal had, after finally complying with the repeated command to send Vulpersian to the testing facility, instantly retired to their own private tropical continent where they now lived in modest luxury and hired expensive lawyers to help them avoid the government investigations on a daily basis. They didn't really expect to get any future orders for more vulpersians because they doubted that the League would approve of the animal.

Still. Even the pokemon who were not approved for mass production were not always destroyed. Vulpersian might - unless the government or the League ordered for the creature to be destroyed - be allowed to remain at the test facility forever. That was how the testing facility had gotten it's other residents: they hadn't quite passed the tests for whatever reason but they were allowed to spend the rest of their natural lives wandering around the meadows.

A cloud of icy bubbles filled the video screen for a few moments. Vulpersian shrieked. The fight was becoming more interesting. One of the veteran rejected species living at the test facility had chosen to get involved.

**ooxoo**


	2. 1:2

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**1:2**

**A**ny residents of a world with enough magical fields to support a large floating island will notice, after a while, that the large floating island seems to be a giant magnet for weird and dangerous events. Bizarre disasters tended to start in the vicinity of the magical island and spread to the rest of the planet. This was why not many creatures decided to visit the place. And even fewer lived there.

There was only one current resident, in fact.

Knuckles was intelligent. Really. He was literate and had experience in combat and could repair mechanical things, when needed but... He also lived in isolation. So being a history expert did not help to keep him up to date on the recent events of popular culture. Being able to survive on his own did not make him socially graceful, as it were. About the only regular company that Knuckles had - aside from random weird monsters and ambitious thieves and a private library - was a gigantic shiny green rock that stood on the platform of an ancient stone shrine and kept the island afloat. If the rock didn't exist then the island wouldn't have been airborne, the island would have been just another body of land in the ocean and truth be told, that might not have been horrible. Knuckles might have been able to live comfortably among society if given the chance. But the giant rock existed and so Knuckles existed as well, in isolation, as the rocks guardian. Because the flying island needed to be steered.

There are, according to humans, laws of nature. But somewhere off in the fine print, nature is probably laughing at this concept.

So what happens when a speedy blue hedgehog accidentally falls into a different dimension? Does the home dimension suffer any side effects, other than no longer having the speedy blue hedgehog? Nah. Why should it? However humans don't like that kind of math and nature chooses to indulge them sometimes. People might talk about needing to have something roughly Sonics weight appear in his home world to fill Sonics absence and so... The problem is, of course, that Sonic had been moving very fast. So what happens if whatever appears in this dimension from the other one - it has to be give and take to balance the dimensions, doesn't it? - inherits that speed?

Well - of course - what it means is that no matter where in his native world Sonic had so recently been, the object that replaces Sonic is going to travel extremely rapidly and hit the large floating island like an explosion. Because, remember, the large floating island is a giant magnet for weird and dangerous events.

The dark cloud came out of nowhere, as far as Knuckles was concerned. There was hardly even an ominous gust of wind for warning. Yet with the intuition of anyone who has seen as many explosions as this sturdy red echidna had, he ran for cover. He couldn't guard the place if he got killed, after all. The explosion seemed to take a long time. Knuckles eventually peeked out of the convenient underground tunnel and saw that it was hailing.

Except that it wasn't hail.

"What the heck..." Knuckles had never seen weather like this. The hail - he didn't know what else to call it - was perfectly round. And all the pieces were about the same size. And...for lack of better terms...it was rainbow hail. The spheres were half white and half red. Or half blue or half yellow or half green or half something else. It was actually kind of pretty to watch. Like fireworks in reverse but not lethal. The hail exploded and dissolved in sparks of light each time a sphere collided with the island.

Curiosity overcame caution.

Knuckles stuck out a gloved and spiked hand to catch a piece of rainbow hail.

The pokeball, despite being far from home and moving at speeds that it had never ever been intended for, defied logic and physics by functioning. Knuckles, much to his own surprise, vanished.

The pokeball landed on the ground with a thud, rocked back and forth for a while and THEN exploded in a shower of light. Which released a bewildered, angry and mildly nauseaous humanoid red echidna back onto the island. Knuckles was seventeen and that made him old enough to do some creative swearing. But the pokeball had released him right into the path of another falling pokeball. Of course. And we're talking about a hailstorm of Sonics weight in pokeballs here and mostly empty pokeballs hardly weigh anything. So this situation might take a while, to be fully resolved. But hey - nature reminds the audience - we asked for there to be natural laws.

**ooxoo**

**R**ules are made to be broken. Two pokeballs had separated from the cloud and, moving at speeds that rendered them invisible, even broke away from the magnetic weirdness factor of the magical floating island. They raced in separate paths towards destinations that nature thought would be fun to explore.

One of the stray pokeballs appeared - without even leaving a trail of flaming debree or punching a hole in the wall - on a shelf in a dark, dingy and cluttered laboratory. It rolled to a gentle stop, smoking slightly. Which made it a smidge noticable, even here. Dr. Robotnik blinked at it. He didn't remember building that. Or blowing it up. Hrm.

He dressed a bit like a toy soldier with the long red jacket and the dark pants but he was a mad scientist. Dr. Robotnik wore goggles strapped across his head - but never over his eyes, they'd be in the way of his prescription glasses - to try and help people understand this. And in his case, both definitions of the word 'mad' currently applied. It was frustrating to be a brilliant scientist in a world full of unpredictable magical fields. Not to mention that some annoying humanoid animals always seemed to ruin his careful and diverse plots for world domination at the very last minute. And those of his inventions which the so-called heros didn't blow up seemed to just fall apart and disappear. Really. He was getting fed up with that. It was affecting his health.

Dr. Robotnik had not always been bald and heavyset. He was tall, he'd been that much for his entire adult life, and capable of throwing significant amounts of weight but... The whites of his eyes had turned black, his pupils had turned red and even his precious brown mustache - which sprouted out past his shoulders from beneath a nose that had its own personal summit - was drooping, these days. Okay. So some of his health challenges were probably related to living around dangerous chemicals and exposure to magical fields and having been killed at least once, as far as anyone knew. But most of this, Dr. Robotnik felt, came from being an abject failure. Which was painful to admit. But he'd admitted it, if only to himself. His enemies were still alive and he was not ruling the world. It was hard not to notice and he was a genius, after all.

He'd had a few scattered moments of success, though. He'd ruled little parts of the world - and also sometimes parts of other worlds, due to the interdimensional instability - for a little while. But those victories had never lasted. Anymore Dr. Robotnik invested the majority of his time, money and brainpower into constructing eleborate trap-filled obstacle courses for his most hated enemies. And they were so ungrateful! The animals just ripped through everything! He would spend months on something clever but it would only take them five seconds to run past it and less than that to blow it up. His enemies had a wide variety of ways to blow things up. As if anything in this unstable universe needed extra help with that goal.

Speaking of goals... Ruling the world was not even goal number one these days. Goal number one was kill the hedgehog. So Dr. Robotnik just ended up ruling his laboratory most of the time and even that was a questionable level of authority. He had to pay rent for the abandoned warehouse with the metallic interior. He had to haggle with suppliers to get parts. His own computers did not always agree with him. The world government sent him all kinds of hate mail and sometimes tried to arrest him. His enemies seemed to have either spies or superpowers which allowed them to be informed of what he was up to. Inventions blew up, went missing or spontaneously fell apart. Some of his robots had achieved levels of consciousness and intelligence that had caused them, after giving their creator a good kicking, to seek independence. It just wasn't fair.

Everything that Dr. Robotnik built, worked - if the invention made it to activation. But nothing ever worked precisely as he'd expected or hoped or intended for it to.

And now he had some kind of weird colorful sphere appearing in his lab from nowhere that he knew about. And he couldn't just leave it on the shelf, smoldering because it would probably set fire to something.

"Ha. Not gonna get blown up today." Laughed the Evil Overlord, as he liked to think of himself. He reached for the sphere. Because even though he was a genius, he was a struggling genius. So even though the sphere was smoldering he did not pause and think: gosh, this might be a rather stupid idea. And even though he was wearing the same kind of gloves that his enemies often wore - and which seemed to protect them from all sorts of hazards - his hand was burned on contact. Which caused him to drop the pokeball. Which caused the pokeball to open.

Nothing happened. The pokeball sat there, open and empty. Dr. Robotnik was too human to be captured. So, after he had finished cursing and ranting and sucking on his injured hand, he kicked the pokeball. And he was - despite his somewhat unhealthy appearance - strong.

The pokeball clicked shut as it flew through the air and the sphere riocheted violently at sharp angles around the room. Dr. Robotnik protected his head with his hands and dove for cover, something that he had practice at. He crouched behind a large computer console and listened to the sounds of expensive things shattering. Eventually the pokeball came down on a surface where it could roll and did so. Unfortunately, that surface was the computer console and the pokeball rolled across a few buttons - pressing them - before falling off the side, smacking Dr. Robotnik on the head right between the eyes of his goggles and then bouncing to the floor.

"Why you..." Dr. Robotnik stood with a speed that, while not even in the range of being noteworthy to certain other native species, was impressive for a human of his girth. However no one who constantly works around computers can suppress the urge to yell at them once in a while.

Then he noticed which buttons had been pressed.

Because a calm pleasant digital voice came over the intercom and said: "Self-destruct mode has been activated. Please evacuate and have a nice day."

Dr. Robotnik did not flee in a hysterical fit of frustration - he'd lived through such explosions before, it was hardly an experience worth noting these days - so instead he assumed a thoughtful pose with one hand on his hip and one hand stroking his mustache. "Perhaps I should make a note to stop building that feature into my labs."

On the computer screen, the countdown until the self-destruct clicked into place. He'd done a nice job programming it. There was appropriate classical music and a screen saver and the whole bit. Perhaps he'd missed his calling. He could have designed some truly amazing alarm clocks, if he hadn't been so bent on taking over the world.

The countdown kept ticking. "Or at least a snooze feature... Or a way to deactivate..." Dr. Robotnik searched among the clutter and found a pencil and a scrap of napkin. He began jotting down ideas. "Because it would certainly be more cost-effective to avoid..."

The base exploded. Everything he built, worked.

Eventually Dr. Robotnik staggered out of the rubble and wondered if his insurance covered damage caused by self-destruct mechanisms of his own construction.

**ooxoo**

**S**tray pokeball number two was fully loaded, as it were. This was not good news for anyone. Somewhere back in its native dimension, a trainer was going to be in a whole lot of trouble. And that was just for starts.

The pokemon inside the pokeball was none too pleased to be moving at this speed. The animal ignored logic and physics - because those were human inventions anyway - and did not immediately die or get turned inside out or start singing obscure gameshow themesongs. It did throw up, after landing and being released. Then the animal paused, shook itself and took stock of its situation.

It did not realize that it was in a different dimension. The surrounding landscape did not suggest this. But the pokemon did have the feeling that something was off.

Standing not too far away was another creature. It... was... strange. And coming from the pokemon, this assessment spoke volumes. The pokemon blinked and looked around and thought about going back into the slightly dented pokeball because it just didn't know what to make of this strange creature. Was it an animal? Or a human? The strange creature stood upright. It was wearing clothes, even though it had fur. Plain white socks, dark red shoes with a band of gold around the ankle and a long sleeveless red dress that included a schoolgirl collar and a loose tie around the neck. This animal had hands. With fingers. Inside gloves.

"Uhm, hello?" said Cream, who had never expected to see anything walk away from what she'd considered a bright falling star. She was a humanoid rabbit but her ears were out of proportion to the rest of her. If she tilted her head in concern, one ear would touch the ground. Her ears were, in fact, long enough to function as wings. And that was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg of what she could do. Because she was age seven and all her best friends - who were also inadvertantly her best teachers - were the heros of this world. Not even Cream was consciously aware of how dangerous she was becoming. She didn't think of it as training or anything like that, when she mimicked her friends.

The pokemon relaxed a bit, not being aware of these things. Okay. IT talked. That made the strange creature human. And...

"chao?" squeaked Cheese, who had been distracted a moment ago. He fluttered up and hovered next to Creams shoulder. As far as the newly arrived pokemon was concerned, Cheese looked like an insect type monster. Possibly designed for extra cuteness. And the fact that the insect spoke what was clearly the name of his species only confirmed the inevitable conclusion.

So the strange creature was not only a human but a trainer. And she must be a good trainer, to have earned the right to raise two pokemon. She must be a danged good trainer, actually, to have taken down any gym with just a cute little blue insect type for help. That was some comfort, anyway. But... How bizarre.

_I've been traded._ Thought the pokemon, _Why wasn't I consulted? I thought I was supposed to be..._

The League was strict about trades. Pokemon were supposed to be part of that decision process now and there was supposed to be a trial period, to make sure everyone got settled in without changing their minds. Had something happened to his previous owner? The pokemon had no clue. But he couldn't imagine that his trusted friend would just leave him or trade him illegally, without even saying goodbye. They'd been through some gyms together.

"...ank." The pokemon whimpered, sad and confused.

Ursatank was his full title. He was smarter than most other genetically built pokemon. No one was sure why.

Cream - who lived around chao, had wandered into other dimensions, watched politically correct cartoons and got upset if she read regular childrens novels - had never seen an animal quite like this. It had the overall shape of a bear and the markings of a cow but some of the features were definitely from the cow side. Not many bears had a long tail. Or one set of hooves. Or looked as if they could be milked. Really if not for the fur, the shape of the face and muzzle, the short round ears, the teeth and the claws then it would have been a cow. But Cream was polite. In fact being polite was a physical part of her basic genetic makeup. If something had exploded behind her then she probably would have turned around and said: "Bless you." She had, in the past, been persistantly considerate enough to make evil robots blush and surrender - and the evil robots had not been programmed to do either of those things.

If anyone had ever thought to take a small blood sample from this rabbit child... And then carefully forced someone like, for example, Dr. Robotnik to have a transfusion... Then they might have died of shock at the total eradication of the evil aspects of his personality. They might have lived in a world with some truly amazing alarm clocks. But who has time to think of such things, in such an unstable place?

"Whats wrong?" Cream inquired.

Ursatank replied.

Cream could understand Cheese and basically all that he ever said was 'chao!' so this was, perhaps, another skill from having ears almost longer than her body was tall. She heard things and - by the time the sound had traveled through those ears - she understood them. "Really? Well, that's awful. I don't know what could have happened to your friend."

Ursatank stared and sweatdropped. He had NEVER expected to have a trainer that understood _everything_ he said. Even his last trainer, his friend, had only been making educated guesses most of the time. And they'd been working together for years before the combination of experience and friendship had allowed them to establish that much of an understanding. New trainers weren't _supposed_ to understand the pokemon vocabulary right away. Pokemon secretly delighted in this. It allowed the animals to get away with things that clear communication might have prevented.

Who WAS this trainer?! Why had Ursatank, who had been fighting for years and was well-attuned to the pokemon gossip circuits, never heard of a trainer like this?!

Ursatank glanced at Cheese, as if wanting hints. Cheese only whispered 'chao!' but with the kind of glee that meant he could, on a whim, probably destroy something five hundred times his own size. Insects were always such maniacs - it was just how they were. Something about being small and cute and having the instinct for swarming... And most of the insects were poisoness too, so that carried over to their personas. Few insects could live up to their goals of conquest though. But this insect was with a trainer and had already gone through a gym, it must have. The trainer wouldn't have the right to acquire a second pokemon otherwise. So... Wait. No. _Nobody _chose an insect type for a starter. That was just unheard of!

_Maybe my last trainer lost a fight? Or a bet?_ Ursatank wondered if the lack of farewells meant that his former trainer was ashamed. _Or maybe my last trainer was robbed!_

A criminal. Of course! It all made so much sense, now. No WONDER he'd never head of this trainer before. Skilled criminals kept low profiles. And being a polite well-groomed little kid, that might be part of the act. Who would suspect her?! And the insect type! Ha! It had to be part of her plan! Even if this child hadn't defeated a gym - she was an evil genius!

Gosh. A chance to work with a genius of any sort... Hrm. Tough decision. Ursatank knew that he should obey the laws, fear the justice of the League and seek out his previous trainer. But he'd never met any real evil geniuses before - not in his opinion. This might be a true once in a lifetime opportunity. And at least this genius was a small polite one. Plus Ursatank was, as a competitor, kind of curious to find out what the insect was capable of in combat. Yes. Data gathering. Research. That's what he'd claim, if the law caught up to them. He couldn't get in too much trouble for just that, could he? No. It was practically his duty. What good was running to the police going to do without all the proper data first? If you were going to report a crime, there had to be evidence. If you were going to turn a criminal in then you had to be able to prove that they were a criminal. A hunch wasn't enough.

"My name is Cream." Cream felt that the moment for introductions had arrived. She'd given the cowbear plenty of time to introduce itself first - and it hadn't. She held out a hand for a while and the cowbear just stared at her with a blank expression. So eventually she withdrew the offer of a handshake and turned. "And this is Cheese, my special chao friend. Why don't you come home with us and have some tea and cake? Then we could-"

There was an interruption.

"No. Well, yes, actually. But no, that's not what I meant." said Cream, her forehead wrinkled slightly with the effort of trying to explain. "I'm sure that Tea and Cake are names that belong to someone..." She never frowned but looked thoughtful. "I haven't met anyone with those names, though." She snapped out of it, returning to her mental orbit of Planet Nice. "Oh! But please may I ask, what is your name?"

Ursatank hesitated. His trainer HAD named him. Was it a good idea to give his name to a dangerous criminal, who may have already disposed of persons called Tea and Cake? On the other paw, was it a good idea to lie to a potential evil genius? He couldn't just make up a name. He might not remember to answer to that madeup name. So he told Cream his actual name.

"It's nice to meet you." Cream smiled and half-bowed in greeting, her ears swaying with the motion and threatening her balance but not knocking her over. "Now as I was saying before, do come with us for some treats. I love making new friends and perhaps a snack will help you to feel better. Then Cheese and I can help you search for your lost friend. I'm sure that if we work together we can find..." She paused in mid-triumphant pose. "Uhm. Excuse me, please, what was the name of the person that you are currently separated from? I mean, if we're going to help you to look for this person then I should probably know."

Ursatank didn't hesitate this time. His knew that his trainer had two other pokemon. The pokemon team and their trainer had worked together, to defeat many challenges - including gyms - in the past. So if this little genius thought she was setting a trap, she was mistaken. Finding his previous trainer was a great idea! He'd thought about choosing this option earlier anyway but now he had a plan, which gave him more motivation. Ursatank had confidence in the pokemon that he'd worked with. His previous trainer... He wasn't sure what to feel about this person who had apparently been robbed. Ursatank was a little upset that his trainer had not guarded him better. But the other pokemon of that previous trainer... That was his team! Together they could capture this evil kid and make her confess to all her crimes! Without a doubt!

"Okay!" Cream could not read minds so she resumed her mid-triumphant pose, which meant pumping the air with a clenched fist. Which was not a gesture that had come naturally to her because it seemed violent. But all her friends did this sort of thing and, being seven, she wanted to fit in sometimes. And Cheese was her friend, so he was mimicking the posture too - which was even less natural because he didn't have a fist to clench. "We will help you find Mrs. Anita Dayoff!"

Cream paused. She was seven and with her ears, it was hard not to laugh at the way that the name had sounded. But she was polite.

**ooxoo**

**E**veryone is a genius at something. But Tails was, even among geniuses, something else.

Imagine a room. Make it a large room, just to be safe. Maybe imagine it to be underground as well, so that there won't be many distractions. Stock the room with some food and water, be generous because even geniuses have to eat and stay hydrated. Add a hammock and a bathroom because even geniuses occasionally need sleep and have bodily functions that require privacy. Clutter the corners with toolboxes, creaking bookshelves and random mechanical parts.

Now imagine Tails in that room.

Tails is twelve. So lets leave him in that room for twelve days. Try to guess what might be there when you go check on him. We could make it a gameshow, if you like. Which door will you choose? All the doors are shiny and the applause is wild. Which prize will be revealed? Will it be a biplane? A fighter jet? A spaceship? Why would he even build a spaceship, underground? Who cares? He could do it. Or maybe it would be something more practical - like a high-tech fully fitted kitchen or a workshop that now resembles mission control for a space program or... There was no end to the possibilities, as long as nearly all of the possibilities were mechanical.

The genius of this orange kitsune was semi-selective. When friends made requests they had to be careful. Tails had the tendancy to see how many features he could cram into a single gadget. He could build you an ordinary looking wristwatch but it might also contain a radio, a phone, a laser and a digital camera, perhaps even a microwave. So when asked to do larger scale objects...

If he had existed in another dimension - and it seems possible that sections of his brain already do - Tails would have been hired in a nanoinstant by the British Government to supply things to Agent 007. And then they would have allowed him to design tools for the rest of the secret agents, the police, the military, the aerospace industry, the airlines, the professional race car drivers, the locomotive industry, the nations power grid, the water filtration systems, the world banks, hospitals, schools and video games. And on weekends they would have invited him to speak at special seminars in respected universities. Because otherwise Tails might get bored. And Tails was simply too dangerous an intellect to have wandering around bored or unemployed.

And in addition to this... They might have hired a team of advanced mathmaticians, scientists, doctors and psychologists to study his behaviors from a safe distance. To try and figure out how he does it.

One of the truly baffling things, that you will begin to notice in your imagined room, is that Tails has not used anything that you put there for him except the privy. He has his own array of tools - they just seem to follow him around and appear when needed. The parts have also magically appeared, so the room is now even more cluttered that it had been when you first imagined it. There is no shortage of things here. It's almost as if every single time that something on this planet blows up - or if one of Dr. Robotniks inventions goes missing - it will end up here. Tails has ordered take-away meals to be delivered with a phone, after he built the phone. And just for kicks he upgraded the delivery persons mode of transport, so he now gets a lifetime supply of free meals delivered to anywhere that they can reach him. Tails could order a pizza to be delivered to an underwater cavern because he would probably offer to build the remote control submarine needed to make the delivery work. He has even ordered a comfy futon, although it doesn't appear that he has used it much. He has converted the hammock into something far more mechanical and quite deadly.

Perhaps the last thing that you need to be told about Tails for now is that, once you've gone to check on him and after you can pick your jaw up off the floor, he hasn't been counting the days. He doesn't seem to build things with calendar functions. Remind him what day it is. Let him know how long he's been here. He might not always care but if he hasn't taken many breaks - sometimes he forgets to - this might prompt him to do so.

And his real name is Miles Prower. But he has a pair of tails and so that's why everyone, even complete strangers, usually called him by his nickname instead. All of his closest friends in this world were humanoid animals. They all had tails. Nobody else had a pair. The hedgehogs, the rabbit, the chao - none of them had long fluffy tails. The echidna had a medium tail but it was not fluffy, it looked like a broken weathervane. Still. None of them could attack with theirs. Tails didn't often resort to this method but he did at least have the option. And a kitsune, in case anyone wonders, is a mythical fox. Often recognized by having formidable magical skills and multiple tails. Some kitsune, according to lore, had as many as nine or eighteen tails. Some kitsune, especially those who were shapeshifters, tended to beome humanoid or giant and could therefore end up with hundreds of tails. But Tails just had the two. And he was more interested in building things than studying lore.

He was currently in an underground workshop.

It did have a phone. The phone was also a regular radio, which could play music and a communications radio, which was part of a massive global network of spies. And it had an answering machine. Tails had wanted to add about fifteen other features to this device but his friends, his best friend in particular, had asked him not to. After all they had to use this phone sometimes. And they had to leave messages, more often.

The phone was ringing. Unfortunately it was currently in regular radio mode so the ringing got drown out by the blaring music. But Tails had snuck a call priority and call identification program into the phone. So when the device saw that the incoming call was from the planets only floating island, it immediately shut off the radio and switched over to the answering machine. They had figured that getting Knuckles into the network would be a good early warning system for the rest of the world.

A half incoherant message began to be left by a frustrated and badly confused red echidna.

"Okay, okay, coming..." Tails blurred out from beneath his current project and pulled on his gloves - he didn't always wear them, when doing mechanical work. The gloves were white. It was challenging to keep the gloves clean, if he wore them in the workshop. For roadside repairs or other rushed circumstances, Tails didn't fuss much about wearing the gloves. But the workshop was different. It was a choice. So no gloves here. Tails did wear shoes, socks, safety goggles and earplugs though. He reached for the phone and hit a few buttons. He remembered to take the earplugs out. "Hey! What's going on?"

Knuckles had absolutely no idea and rushed to express this in a thousand or so angry words.

Tails casually sketched the blueprints for a nuclear reactor on the cover of an outdated technology manual and was also able to clip his toenails while waiting for the tirade to finish. "So..." He said, after allowing a pause and putting his shoes back on. "The Master Emerald is perfectly fine?"

Yes. It was. The rock was surrounded by a magical field. Even though Knuckles was the official Guardian, the rock could protect itself. The Master Emerald was ancient. It had existed for longer than anyone could remember. It had somehow failed to defend itself, repeatedly, in the past but today was apparently a rare exception. And besides this was not, as far as Knuckles was currently concerned, the point. He'd been attacked by a weird cloudburst of rainbow hail! It had eaten him and then spit him out, several times! This was not normal weather! Not even for a large floating island full of unstable magic! And, Knuckles added, having his physical size altered numerous times by things that he did not understand was not pleasant. At all.

"Okay, I heard you!" Tails emphasized patiently, "But I just want to make sure I understand. Nobody blew up the Master Emerald? Or tried to steal it? Or blew it up and THEN tried steal it? It is easier to carry, once it's in pieces..."

When confronted with a jewel large enough to build a modest hut on top of, most creatures would have been singing all the way to the bank. Knuckles was different. He viewed the rock as part of history, a sacred cultural artifact. Tails was different as well. He viewed the rock as a potential power source for mechanical things. It was already powering a whole floating island. The amount of features that could be added to a whole floating island - it made even Tails giddy to contemplate. Because of this, Tails did not always get along with the Guardian. Knuckles understood mechanics but did not want his home to be transformed into a theme park or anything. Not again. And the echidna preferred to keep the Master Emerald intact. He was not going to lend out even a tiny piece of the jewel to power other devices unless there was a state of absolute emergency.

A state of absolute emergency, in this world, required Sonic to discover something that he could not blow up by himself. This was not a common occurance yet it had still happened with disturbing frequency. Also - and with slightly more disturbing frequency - there had been times when Knuckles had been tricked into believing that an absolute state of emergency was already in progress. He had, in the past and while under the impression that such actions were necessary to save the universe, lent out the Master Emerald. That was another reason they'd finally gotten a phone installed on the floating island. So much disaster could be avoided, just by making the attempt to keep Knuckles informed of current events. This didn't often work because Knuckles had a talent for losing and destroying phones. Plus the magical fields at the island sometimes caused the phones to just blow up. Tails had not yet gotten around to inventing a phone that could survive a month with the Guardian or resist the energy in the area of the Master Emerald. It was on the kitsunes to-do list, though. Somewhere towards the bottom.

Tails spent a moment being glad that he had also not yet invented a phone that Knuckles could reach through. The Guardian might have punched him, long distance. Maybe even collect.

Knuckles did not like to be indirectly reminded of all the lies he'd ever fallen for. Nor did he enjoy being reminded that the Master Emerald, when blown up, did not just cease to exist but instead continued to exist as a million little slivers. It was hard enough, to guard one giant jewel. It was beyond ridiculous, to try and guard a million little slivers of the same jewel. And they always seemed to scatter. And each little sliver would retain just enough of the magical field to STILL be magnets for weird and dangerous events. And the first weird and dangerous event that always happened in the absence of an intact Master Emerald would be the floating island having to make a crash landing.

That was never really fun.

While Knuckles was reminding the young kitsune of all this with the verbal equivalent of a novel, another call came in.

No location had priority over the floating island but Tails switched over to answer it anyway. "Hello? Oh? Really. Double-paned, you say?" He didn't usually listen to telemarketers.

Then another call came in.

"Sorry, I could invent something better. Bye." Tails deadpanned, hung up on the telemarketer and switched to the new call. "Hello?"

His ears perked up, he listened for a few moments and then he went to find a map of the world. Once he found the map, he went in search of a pencil. Once he remembered that he'd tucked a pencil behind his ear, he was set. "Could you repeat that last part again?"

Someone repeated themselves.

Tails saw the location that he'd just been informed of on the map and circled it. He scribbled a few notes next to the circle and smiled. He thanked the informant for the good news and let them go, which meant that he finally got back to Knuckles who had been talking for the entire time without noticing the kitsunes absence.

"-ally cost me my LIVER and _then_ -" Knuckles was saying. Because creatures who live in isolation don't get the opportunity to vent much.

"Hey, guess what!" Tails interrupted, beaming with childish delight. He was just twelve on some level. "I just heard that a base over in Randomville blew up! It could be random but maybe Sonic has defeated another..."

The blue hedgehog was Tails best friend. If Tails had not been a rare and special breed of genius then he might not have survived such a friendship or been able to keep track of his hero. He also might not have been able to survive any of their other friends, nevermind their enemies.

"... What do you MEAN _you just heard_? Haven't you been listening _to me_?!"

And this was another potential fault of the young genius: Tails was brutally honest. Isn't it sad that this kind of virtue is considered a fault? Tails thought that being honest all the time was part of being a hero. He admired his best friend and wanted to be a hero someday, like that and... He was tempted to lie, sometimes. There were times when lies did seem appealing. And Tails was not always aware of the whole truth so he would only be able to tell someone what he knew, which could have about the same effect as lying. But he didn't _deliberately_ lie. "Uhm. No?"

There was a silence and then another kind of silence, starting with a click and ending in a ringtone. Knuckles had hung up.

"Oh well." Tails switched the phone off and returned the phone, in radio mode, to its place amid the clutter. The workshop was an intricate organized mess, he knew where everything was. Even, on some subconscious level, the things that hadn't been there a few seconds ago and that really shouldn't be there at all. These passed, not unnoticed but unremarked upon because the bulk of his mind was already returning to his current project. Tails slipped off his gloves and glanced at the phone one last time. "He'll call back if it's important." Tails pauses again. "Unless he's just destroyed the phone..." For a moment the kitsune considers. Should he go investigate whatever weirdness the floating island has encountered today? Or stay here and keep working on his project? Hrm. The project was near a critical stage. And Knuckles was a decent warrior. And the Master Emerald was perfectly fine. So it was hard to be very worried. Besides, if anything really bad happened then Sonic would be bound to get involved and sort things out. Tails could wait until then to hear about it. He put the earplugs in and went back to work.

**ooxoo**

**W**ith so much abnormality around... Wait. If the majority is abnormal then the definition of normal changes, doesn't it? Oh yes, says the laws of nature. You can not call the minority 'normal'. Normal is ALWAYS the majority. It's a constant. Even better than a law.

And so we have Amy Rose.

She should have been the most normal of her friends in this world but apparently, due to the laws of nature and being a minority, she was instead the most abnormal. She was also age thirteen, which was a number that magical fields seemed to react to. But by looking at her we can learn even more about everyone else.

Amy Rose was a humanoid hedgehog with pastel pink fur. She was already near her adult height - as confirmed by Sonic and Knuckles not being much taller. Cream was the only member of the group who might end up being more than three and half feet tall as an adult because Creams mother was closer to six foot, which was unusual. Amy had short quills that hung down, framing her face and brushing against her shoulders. Five quills spaced around the back and sides and one short quill up front that served as bangs. They were not locked in a windblown star style like Sonics. And if they'd been longer then she would have looked even more like the Guardian, who always referred to his quills as dreads despite the fact that no braiding had been involved. However Amy shared the mindset that her quills did qualify as hair and wore a hairband to prove it. She consistantly wore the hairband behind her small triangular ears, as if to prop them up.

She was fashion conscious and, in times of peace, changed her style every day. Despite this Amy always seemed to be wearing the same thing when an adventure started. White gloves, white socks, white belt. A red dress, red hairband and red boots. Cream seemed to wear these colors a lot too. So did Sonic, on his shoes. And Tails, also on his shoes. Even Cheese had a tiny red bow tie. It was a bit strange. They would each have different patterns on their clothing and shoes but, in some sense and without planning ahead, they matched. So it was at least strange in a kind of nice way. Amy liked to feel included.

Knuckles had red fur. He didn't feel compelled to wear the color anywhere else. He'd had red shoes in the past but these days his shoes were often a shade of green. Green reminded him of the island that he called home and of the rock that he guarded. Maybe green was his favorite color? Anyway. His gloves were white but even they were a bit different because - true to his nickname - the Guardian had spikes growing out of his knuckles. So his gloves were closer to being mittens. The spikes were extremely useful for climbing, digging or punching things but Knuckles had trouble with technology sometimes due to his lack of fingers. Plus Knuckles was the only member in their elite group without visible ears. Maybe that explained some things? Amy had noticed. She tried to make sure that she always spoke extra loudly around the Guardian.

She was thirteen. Of course she noticed boys.

Amy Rose had developed a crush the size of a small galaxy on the boy that had in fact been the hardest for her to see. Sonic did not usually hang around at visible speeds when he was nervous. Amy had only heard about this hero before happening to catch a glimpse of him one day. It was hard to put the surprise that she'd felt into words. She'd always thought he was just a story - her parents had often told her stories about the great hedgehogs in their world history and had sometimes also made up such stories - and then she'd seen him. So now, of course, Amy was determined to catch him. Or catch up to him. Because she wanted to know more. And the more Sonic ran away, the more curious it made her. What was he hiding?

Or was this some kind of test? Was Sonic checking for devotion, challenging his friends to prove their loyalty by following him? Amy was willing to take it that way and tried to follow him everywhere. This did not often work out. Amy was not slow but among her friends, she could not be called speedy. Even Cream, who flew by gliding with or flapping her ears and Tails, who flew by rotating his tails had better speed than Amy Rose. Even Knuckles, who might take half an hour to figure out a word pun, could catch up to and pass Amy in a race where she was given the head start. And that was just his running speed. Knuckles could also glide and fly. It wasn't a well understood subject - the Guardian had probably just had too much exposure to magical fields.

But her heart was set on Sonic.

Knuckles tended to be a grumpy antisocial type around her and Tails was possibly a dimension unto himself and neither of them were hedgehogs. Falling in love with males of other species was not unheard of in this world - there were many such couples, it was even mundane - but Amy was, remember, abnormal. She wanted to believe that being in love with a guy her own species might make the love more likely to be destined. Or at least mutual. And Sonic was a hedgehog. He had the same color eyes as Amy, green. And he was only two years older than her and he clearly needed some fashion advice and she was also a warrior, if to a lesser degree and... What about this was not obvious to everyone else? Amy did not get it. The pieces fit together so well, in her mind.

Being the most abnormal member in her group of heroic friends meant that nobody fully understood Amy or reacted to events in the same manner. If Sonic met a hostile robot then he would blow it up and usually just by spinning through it or running it over. Tails could take a robot apart and build something else - or blow it up with something that he'd already built. Knuckles might offer to buy a bridge in the middle of a desert from the robot - or blow it up, once he caught on and felt threatened. Cream...

Cream was seven. She might invite the robot over for cake and tea and just generally be sweet enough to cause the robot to self-destruct out of shame for daring to think of harming such a kind, innocent creature. But she had also blown things up, by accident. Such accidents tended to result in the young rabbit making tearful apologies to smoking craters. She would always find the time to do so even if it meant going back to the battlefield - or back to the nearest approximate surviving location - after the battles were over. Cream could defend herself but she didn't like to commit violence, it was impolite, and she didn't have to. More often Cheese, the tiny pale blue chao who accompanied Cream through life, would be asked to blow the robot up if there was no other option for continued immediate survival. And Cheese would happily and easily blow the robot up. And Cream would still feel regret, for giving the order. Even if her order had just helped to save the world. Amy had noticed.

Amy Rose did not blow things up. She would not have regretted blowing things up but, unless armed with weapons to help with this, she did not have the ability to blow things up. She could not punch holes through things or achieve the speed to spin through obstacles. Instead, Amy screamed and ran away. Or got kidnapped. Or pulled a mallet larger than herself out of thin air and flattened whatever offended her. Her reaction depended on her mood and her moods were - oddly enough - more stable than the local planet. The planet was just riddled with magical fields and dimensional gates and so forth, after all. But those things tended to happen in the wilderness.

Sonic owned a house near a beach but he might as well have rented the place out, he was never there. The blue hedgehog lived where ever his feet took him. Tails, in theory, lived with Sonic but could more often be found in a workshop. The kitsune had at least one underground base of operations. Knuckles had a floating island. Cream lived with her mother in a humble village, where their cozy gardenside cottage often doubled as the local bakery.

Amy Rose was the only city dweller. She lived with both of her parents in an adequate and nicely decorated apartment situated among wide tree-lined streets, historic buildings, concrete skyscapers, affordable public transit, trendy shopping districts and ethnic marketplaces. The urban population was a blend of human, animal and escaped/retired evil robots. The city was diverse and educational, Amy enjoyed being a resident. Life in the city was never too boring. She learned something new each day. She saw plenty of citizens. She felt included.

Her family was not wealthy but they lived comfortably. Both of her parents worked and sometimes, so did she. Amy took odd jobs. Never full time or permanent because she had to attend school. Mostly she took the jobs just to get out and earn some extra spending money for herself. She had been an intern, a summer hire, a seasonal cashier, a babysitter, a waitress, a temporary nurses aid in a hospital... That sort of thing. Once in awhile she had even volunteered - it was just the right thing to do - but Amy did like to shop, so... And the work wasn't bad, but...

Tails, one year younger than her, already had a global reputation among engineers. The kitsune could easily make a fortune if he ever decided to get paid for turning his passion into a career. Despite his genius though... Not every single thing that Tails built, worked. Whether or not this was deliberate, it was hard to be certain. Tails was not without a sense of humor although his ideas about what qualified as funny were probably from a different planet. And Tails wasn't fazed by an imperfect rate of success because he seemed to have an environmental effect on anything that blew up - even his own inventions. All the parts would eventually reappear in his workshop. Amy had noticed. Still. His success rate was unnaturally high and sometimes Tails did raise funds by selling his inventions. But usually only when the invention was a household device, such as a refrigerator that just happened to also be a television and/or washing machine. More common was that Tails might raise funds by selling only the paperwork for an invention. He liked selling only the paperwork, the patents and blueprints and such, because almost nobody else in this world would be able to build his designs. So selling the paperwork was safer than just handing over an invention to the highest bidder. While not always comprehensible, Tails was capable of being considerate.

Meanwhile Cream, age seven, was practically the co-owner of a popular bakery. Sonic considered saving the world to be his main occupation but took on the global postal routes once in awhile, just to see if he could set a new delivery record. Knuckles considered protecting the Master Emerald his occupation but occasionally - and much to the surprise of anyone who knew him - published essays and research papers on the subject of history.

Amy Rose had never done anything like this. She felt kind of awkward on this point. All of her friends already knew what they were going to be and even Knuckles wasn't that much older than her. But gosh, she'd already tried so many different jobs. And yet there were so many others that she hadn't tried, as well. Amy wasn't sure what she wanted to become, career-wise. She might have thought about it more if she hadn't been distracted by her focus on a certain crush.

There was no end of boys her species living in or around the city. There was no shortage of male visitors her age to the city - schools from other places often came to the city for sporting events and field trips. Yet social though Amy was, she had trouble making friends here. Well. Not exactly. She HAD friends here. Plenty of friends. Good friends. And she treasured them. But she also saw them nearly every day in school or around town. So as much as she loved her local groups, they occasionally seemed dull. And considering some of the adventures that she'd had around Sonic and the others... How could she not have strong feelings for these elite friends? Plus Amy Rose craved a little adventure sometimes. She traveled to visit her heroic friends. They didn't come to see her.

Knuckles didn't typically leave the floating island unless the Master Emerald blew up. Cream was too busy helping with the bakery to visit more. Tails only seemed to join their concept of reality when testing an invention required him to step outside his workshop - or when called upon to help save the world. Sonic...

From what Amy had seen, he seemed to hate to stand still for more than a minute at a time. Sonic was rarely still outside of: A) world emergencies, when he might pause for long enough to be told what was going on, B) medical emergenices, when he might remain in place for long enough to heal, C) the rare times he sat down to eat instead of redefining the term 'fast food', D) being asleep or E) being frozen solid. Also, on exceptionally rare occasions, Sonic would be captured and contained - not an easy task without inflicting injury, knocking him out or freezing him solid - and forced to wait for rescue. This qualified as torture, in his mind, and he always got revenge. Oh and sometimes, he would ride in vehicles. This probably did not count as standing still to most creatures but it was a significantly slower pace than average for the blue hedgehog. So visits with Sonic were short, to say the least and visits from him only happened by accident. He had ended up lost in the city more than once. Sonic didn't have the best sense of direction. When you could move at such speeds, vision might not be the ideal sense to do the steering with. Amy had noticed.

But they had all been good to her. They had each saved her life at some point. The group had been through many adventures and a few dimensions together. So Amy Rose had made the time and put in the effort to keep in touch. She called and wrote and went to visit them. And they didn't always respond to her calls or her letters - except for Cream, who was polite. And they weren't always home, when Amy knocked on their doors - or knocked on their giant emerald, for lack of an obvious door and Knuckles had nearly killed her for that - but... She kept going. She couldn't imagine not going. She wanted to continue to belong, to this group. She wanted to always be able to help, if the world needed some extra defending. She did live here. It was her world, too. Defending the world beat the alternatives, right?

And anything that might put her in the same room as Sonic for a few fluttery heartbeats was an added bonus, of course. Galactic scale crush aside, he really did need some fashion advice.

She thought about Sonic between nearly every other thought. Sometimes more. So, with the power of intuition and magical fields, Amy Rose became the first to notice that the blue hero was currently missing from this dimension. She didn't know why or how the insight reached her or if this sudden intuition was correct but it filled her with dread.

While not a mechanical expert, she was not allergic to technology. Amy Rose had a mobile phone. She used it. She called Tails and didn't get an answer. She called Knuckles and didn't get an answer. She liked Cream but didn't expect the young rabbit to be better informed about Sonics location than the Guardian of the Master Emerald or Sonics own best friend. She called Cream anyway, just to have someone to talk to. She hated to feel alone when she was nervous. And even though she was walking down a sidewalk in a bustling densely populated city - right now Amy Rose felt nervous and alone.

The phone was answered. It was Vanilla, Creams mother. Vanilla answered the phone because the house was her house and also her business, she was always prepared to take orders. A pleasant greeting and a simple request got Cream on the other end of the phoneline. Ten minutes of talking with a polite seven year old made Amy feel better.

"Yea. Thanks for listening. I was probably just imagining..." Amy Rose paused, looking both ways before crossing a street. Even though she was crossing with a crowd of fellow pedestrians. At a stoplight. In a cross walk. And she didn't speak in a whisper even though she was in a crowd because people in cities ignored you if you spoke at normal volumes and listened more when you were trying to whisper. Amy had noticed. "I mean, I always get so scared that he's just going to up and not ever come back someday - but you're right. That wouldn't be like him. Not that he is gone."

Amy felt better but was disturbed to find herself stubbornly thinking of Sonic in past tenses now. She managed a nervous laugh and said her farewells to the young rabbit, who had to get off the phone so that orders could be placed - it was a business phone. Also, Cream was entertaining a new friend and hated to be on the phone when she was hosting a tea party. It wasn't polite. The young rabbit had lots of friends, her entire village for starts, so the mention of a new friend did not cause any alarm or special interest.

The pink hedgehog sighed as she put her phone away and, being thirteen, made a few faces at her reflection in the shop windows. Hrm. She _was_ wearing the red today. Could it be a coincidence? Had something happened? Another adventure? Maybe she was STILL imagining things. Amy Rose adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. She looked past her reflection in the trendy store window that she was walking by. _Ooo, that outfit is cute! And on sale! Maybe I'm overdue for some retail therapy..._

She was the most abnormal one, remember.

**ooxoo**

**"H**oly cowbear, Batman!" says Robin. He is a human from another dimension. He is a professional sidekick. Maybe he gets paid extra for remarks like this. Or maybe he does improv on the side. Can't you imagine him spending his weekends in comedy clubs, up on the stage in the spotlight wearing his sidekick costume and holding a microphone and saying these kinds of things to get laugh from the crowd?

But right now, that is not where he is.

"I don't think that's what we hit..." says Batman, leaning out of a car window.

Gosh. What can we say about the Dark Knight? How about we write him a classified ad? If Batman ever placed a brutally honest personal ad in the paper, it might go like this: Single white male. Tall, handsome, athletic. Older than I look and MUCH older than I will ever act. Enjoy moonlit walks across the rooftops, dressing in skin-tight dark costumes and saving the world. Or at least saving a large city. Small villages by special arrangement only. Am seeking a serious relationship with a confident woman who must be able to pass a double criminal background check, not turn out to be a long lost relative, can tolerate Robins sense of humor, can survive Alfreds localized magical field and doesn't mind being kidnapped occasionally. I have a lot of enemies, okay? Enough to do a film series about. Or maybe a musical. Hrm. Wonder if Robin would direct a musical. Anyway. I do have a lot of friends and allies, they might also kidnap you. No, I don't get it either. I sometimes wander off to other dimensions to help the citizens there and... Oh, have I mentioned that I am independently wealthy and can therefore afford to have long rambling personal ads? Yea. Apparently I make more money than the nation which I am currently a resident of, no one has told me why. My company must be building something pretty cool. If I spent more than five minutes at a time there, maybe I would have some idea of what that is but the people at the company don't let me wear interesting skin-tight costumes to work so...

This had all happened, by the way, because earlier someone had mentioned fearing the justice of the League. Not the Justice League. But sound gets distorted when it travels through dimensions. So Batman, an interdimensional warrior himself, had come to the floating island because he thought that he'd been invited. Also because the magical fields had allowed him to.

Well. Not exactly HIM so much as...

And some guy named James Bond keeps trying to steal my stuff, continues the long rambling personal ad. That is really annoying. Oh and I don't like penguins anymore. And I'm allergic to cats. Yet blood sucking flying rodents appeal to me. Does it help to mention that both of my parents are dead? And that, as a child, I witnessed their murders? I suppose that I could just get counseling but revenge is more fun. Crimefighting is sort of a therapy for me. However, mostly, I really do enjoy the skin-tight costumes...

But lets get back to the gadgets. Yep. All that you really need to know about Batman today is this: he owns The Batmobile.

The Batmobile, from the outside, is the most awesome professional racing car in the multiverse. It is sleek and curvy and a glossy pitch black with shiny details picked out in sterling silver. It would be considered a masterpiece, if it was art and it was a masterpiece anyway. The Batmobile is so awesome that the few policemen who have ever had the privilege of seeing this vehicle parked forget to issue the owner a ticket for the car not having a license plate. Or a ticket for parking in an emergency vehicle zone. Or a ticket for parking on the side of a building. This vehicle defies gravity and has not yet learned that there is such a thing as a speed limit. It gets blown up and falls off skyscrapers and always comes back, somehow. And this is because, at least in part, of what's on the inside. There are only two seats. There's no room for any other passengers. All the rest of the room inside this vehicle belongs to the steering, plus the panels of buttons and switches and small flashing lights and digital computer readouts...

One of the digital computer readouts said: Sensors indicate that a new dimension has been arrived in. Acceptable levels of word puns have been found. There is also oxygen, in case you care. I don't.

The Batmobile, from the inside, had the look of a mad scientists control room. This vehicle had so many functions that not even Batman knew what all of them were. Tails could have designed the blueprint for this vehicle. Maybe, in fact, he had. Perhaps this was one of the blueprints that Tails had sold, never expecting that anyone else would be able to build it.

Knuckles, for his part, had certainly never expected to be run over by it. He was not seriously harmed, though. The Guardian was now wearing some expensive tire tracks and was currently burrowing out from under the most awesome professional racing car in the multiverse. He was a bit miffed.

Inside the car Robin was making the argument that maybe, just for a change, they should have stopped and gotten directions. Also, would it be so awful if the sidekick was allowed to drive once in a while? Robin is an adult. He has a valid drivers license and his driving record could not be considered a total disaster, next to some of the stunts that Batman has pulled.

And now you are ready to learn why an eccentric crimefighting billionaire is not likely to ever publish a personal ad in the newspaper: he was not seeking any relationships. Batman was in love with his car. The mere idea of letting anyone else, even the most trusted sidekick, drive nearly required securing a heart transplant for the hero. The notion of anyone even putting a scratch in the paint... The Dark Knight had killed people for attempting lesser crimes. Even though the car had survived far worse things like being blown up or falling off skyscrapers - Batman had remained a smidge overprotective of the vehicle.

"Holy glowing giant rock!" Robin observed, having finally given up on his argument and able to notice their current surroundings more. "I mean..." He pointed. "Look at that!"

The Master Emerald hated to be outdone in awesomeness. It hated to take second billing to a sleek black car, of all things. So, feeling pouty - and being contractually obliged to do this for any credible adventure in this world - The Master Emerald blew up.

"That's probably not a good sign." Batman decided and floored the gas pedal. He was mostly still mortal and, more importantly, did not want his precious car to get hurt.

With engines revved, the Batmobile went to find a different dimension. If it had not left at professional race car speeds then it might have had a new hood ornament, in the form of an upset attacking echidna. Knuckles just missed attaching himself via his spikes to the departing cars tailfins.

Then the Guardian noticed that there were now a million little slivers of the Master Emerald hovering above the floating island. Knuckles begins to do some creative swearing.

But the Batmobile has left with such style and speed that the unstable magic partially opens another dimension. Right here, right now. Two people, far away and completely unaware of what they are about to cause, are playing cards. One of them is a boy and one of them is a girl. The boy lays down a monster card. What monster is that, says the girl but her voice is so distant that her speech doesn't even get quotation marks, it's kind of ugly. Yes, says the boy who is also too distant for his speech to get quotation marks, it is called a Sliver.

There are, above the floating island, now a million little Slivers. So instead of looking like tiny pieces of shattered green glass... They look like tiny digestive tracks with spinal chords, claws and fangs. Knuckles does not much care for this sight.

This is my Sliver deck, says the boy. He is clearly the more confident card player. He explains. These badly drawn monsters are very dangerous because they have good teamwork. They share skills. If one Sliver can fly then all of the other ones will learn to fly. If I get a lot of these monsters, and I will, then you might as well surrender. The boy yawns. He then summons some more Slivers. But he can not attack with them until his next turn.

Now there are five million little Slivers above the floating island and they can all fly. They would also be very devestating if anyone in this universe had buried some playing cards in a graveyard. Knuckles does not really understand this but is filling out change of address forms anyway and is starting to regret that he has already destroyed the only working phone on the floating island.

The girl has not been playing this card game for as long as her peer but she is eccentric and has, despite all odds, somehow managed to draw the exact cards that she needs. This pretty much never happens. But everything has to happen once in a while, no matter how unlikely. So, modest and polite, she speaks up when it is her turn. Uhm, she says, I have a monster out though and this is my Deathtouch deck.

Knuckles is not fazed by this. He's always been able to kill things on contact, when needed.

But your monster is small and weak, the boy points out, and it does not have Deathtouch. It is a Deepwood Wolverine, a furry little red animal. It gets stronger when things try to block it. The more things that block, the stronger your creature gets. Did you not read the cards?

The girl nods. Nearly all of her cards are green. Can you block spells? She calmly asks her opponent.

Knuckles can not see the cards so he is wondering what a wolverine is. The five million little Slivers are beginning to fidget.

No, says the boy. This is clearly a casual game. The girl casts her first spell. It is an artifact. Knuckles gets a necklace made of black talons. Now, she says, my monster has Deathtouch. And - the girl casts another spell - all of your Slivers have to block him. And he still gets stronger with each creature that blocks. So he will live and they will all die. But, just because I can and just because I don't usually get to draw all these cards together, I will cast one more spell.

The boy and all five million of the Slivers are sweatdropping. Uhm, says the boy, and what spell is that?

This spell, says the girl. Flourishing the green card before laying it down. All lands temporarily become monsters and all of your monsters must block. My wolverine attacks you.

Knuckles looks up from his inspection of the strange new necklace. It gets style points but, having always been strong and capable of killing things, he doesn't feel any different. "Uhm... Wait... All LANDS...? This could be a REALLY BAD IDEA. And besides, I'm not a wolverine! I'm an echidna!"

Oh yes, says the laws of nature, I like this game. Oh and wolverine is easier to spell. What kind of proper word is echidna, anyway? Who names an entire species of animal after something that sounds like a type of mexican food?

Your wolverine attacks? says the boy, just wanting to make sure. Yes, says the girl. They are playing a card game called Magic and so, you see, the magic has to happen somewhere.

Knuckles is now caught in the influence of a wandering magical field. He takes a swipe at the air. Five million little Slivers move to block this single attack - but so does the entire floating island. The island flips at a ninety-degree angle and gets there first which causes all of the Slivers to slam into the ground.

With this done, the wandering magical field releases the Guardian and the dimension opened by the Batmobile fades and closes. The boy and girl are still totally unaware of what they have just caused here - but they shake hands and tell each other what a good game it was. The necklace of black talons fades. Knuckles, attached to the center of his own personal crater by his spikes, wishes that the pain from breaking his arm would fade.

The floating island, now infused with The Master Emerald, does not crash. Instead - after rotating back to its normal angle of operation - the floating island begins to steer itself.

Isn't this fun? says the laws of nature. And we haven't even begun to mention the Chaos Emeralds yet.

That's true, notices The Master Emerald and so the large floating island decides to go visit its smaller jeweled relatives. If it can locate them.

Gotta catch them all, grins the laws of nature.

**ooxoo**


	3. 2:1

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**2:1**

**"O**h yea? Well, I have an Ice Heal!"

A human figure in staticky color, an ancient battle being replayed on a small screen. An old training film. For trainers to study. This was what NOT to do. On the sceen, a determined young child throws the much needed potion to their pokemon. With a sharp glassy clink, the potion bounces off a block of ice.

Young Mr. Frankly, Apprentice Historian and unofficial janitor, switched the television off. He'd seen this film before, many times. It was a favorite at the League Museum. He knew that the battle did not end well for the ambitious kid with the frozen pokemon. He went back to sweeping up.

People were very good at inventing things but not always so great at applying the inventions. Ice Heal was just one of those embarrassing moments in history. The trainers from at least a hundred years ago had spurred some amazing changes to medicine. During a battle there were many risks. A pokemon might fall asleep, be blinded, be deafened, become confused, be magically cursed, be poisoned, get frightened or even fall in love to the point where they were no longer willing to attack. Humans had found ways to try and rapidly undo all of these conditions - as well as others. Humans had found ways to cure burns and undo paralysis. They had found ways to boost energy and alertness, to speed the healing of bruises and broken bones. Just so that they could use items to protect their battle partners and try to win. It had taken the pokemon going extinct for humans to start really applying some of this medicine to themselves, as well but... Ice Heal remained a joke.

Many cures for being frozen solid existed. This was basic medical science. It was not hard to thaw a creature out. The creature might need some time to properly recover and perhaps should not immediately return to battle but... The point was that the trainers who had lived so long ago had invented Ice Heal, instead. A potion. How was a pokemon supposed to drink a potion when it was frozen solid? How could you even give the pokemon the medicine, short of drilling a hole in the ice and injecting the medicine into that? And then, eventually, some misguided person had manufactured a special berry. As if that was an improvement. Okay, so the pokemon could hold the berry and try to remember to keep ahold of the berry, during a battle. But if the pokemon still got frozen solid then the berry got frozen solid too. How was a frozen pokemon going to eat a berry? And if the berry could be frozen solid too then how could anyone be sure that this was a good cure? It was just sad, really and yet watching the old films about Ice Heal always made people laugh at how silly those ancestors had been.

Ice Heal had not been made for very long. It had never been profitable. Even a hundred years ago, most trainers had figured out that the best cure for a frozen pokemon was to have or borrow a fire pokemon.

**ooxoo**

**S**onic had a muddled dream. It involved bunny slippers. This was a reoccuring nightmare, he had it every once in while. And it wasn't a very awful nightmare next to some of the situations that he'd actually had to live through but it still bothered him, as he began to wake up. He knew some rabbits, humanoid and otherwise. It was... Well... Yea. Humans might think that it was cute or funny to wear fake animals on their feet but to the real animals... Sonic had a sense of humor and he knew that humans probably didn't mean anything bad by it but... How would humans feel, if he went around in little fuzzy people slippers? It wouldn't send a good message, probably - right? And the expressions. The bunny slippers were always so cheerful looking. That made it worse. People should at least have the decency to make the bunny slippers with pained expressions since they were footwear, they were being stepped on all day.

There are many theories about whether a creature who is frozen solid should be able to remain aware of what is going on around them.

Sonic hadn't. Not this time. He had vague memories of fighting something and then it was snowing and he'd abuptly felt cold and then the bad dream had started and then...

A wall of flame.

Vulpersian lay in the tall grass looking distinctly unimpressed.

If Vulpersian had been able to speak then it might have said a few things along the lines of: 'Are you a trainer or not? Why did you get in the way? I could have taken that attack, it wouldn't have frozen me.' Vulpersian felt confused. Being confused also made it grumpy. It didn't like the situation. A trainer that could fight? A trainer that had tried to defend it? A trainer that wanted to be involved with the battles? But this blue animal wasn't totally human and... Was this some kind of test? They WERE at the testing facility, after all. And the other pokemon here had not hesitated to attack the blue animal. Should they have not attacked, if it was a trainer? Or had they been right, had Vulpersian been wrong? Maybe Vulpersian should have changed sides in the battle and attacked the blue animal as well. Or maybe that was the test - maybe the battle had been to measure Vulpersians loyalty. You couldn't just accept someone as a trainer and then turn against them, could you? No. That would probably not earn approval. Was Vulpersian going to be punished for not being able to better defend the blue one? How was Vulpersian supposed to defend a trainer that was so quick? Who could keep up with the blue one?

How much longer was this test going to last? The humans had set the blue creature outside earlier today. When would they take it back? How was Vulpersian supposed to know what kind of grades it was earning? What did Vulpersian have to do, to find out if had passed the test?

Being part cat, Vulpersian settled for glaring to convey its baffled anger and then resumed grooming. The battle had messed up its fur.

Sonic was a teenager, a male and just humanoid enough to regard this behavior as... Well. Not something that should be done in public. If ever. He reacted by blinking, scowling and looking away. It was suddenly a lot harder to think of the fox as being some version of Tails. He'd practically raised the orange kitsune, Sonic knew the kid was modest. It was trait that Sonic had in common with his friend to a certain degree.

A whole complex train of thought tried to insert itself here. Something about how Tails was still growing up and even though the kitsune was an unmitigated genius, he was also nearly a teenager and he might need a sort of parental lecture about certain things one day and... Sonic ignored it. Resolutely. No one had ever given _him_ the talk - Amys attempts at dating him didn't really count - and he'd turned out okay. So maybe Tails already knew. Or maybe Tails wouldn't ever want to know. It would be perfectly fine with Sonic, if Tails never wanted to know.

He didn't like to think of Tails as getting older because Tails was younger than him. If his adoptive little brother was getting older then he was getting older, too. Sonic didn't usually feel old, though. Not unless he thought about Tails getting older. So he tried not to.

Average life expectancy was an unclear subject for the heroic humanoid hedgehog. Most of the creatures that he knew were young. However he was aware that Cream had parents. Vanilla, Creams mother... Sonic had met Vanilla, he'd rescued her at least once. Sonic didn't think about parents much since he didn't remember his own and he didn't think too often about the creatures he'd rescued because that was not a short list. But Vanilla... When he thought of her at all, Sonic tended to think of her as old just because she was a parent but honestly the elder rabbit was maybe around the age of twenty-eight. Among true wild rabbits, the feral creatures, twenty-eight was ancient. Among humans, twenty-eight was young. But what about for humanoid animals? What kind of age could Vanilla expect to live to? And what about the rest of them? It was pretty clear that the humanoid animals did not age in the same way as humans or animals. If twenty-eightish was truly old for a humanoid rabbit... Maybe fifteen was getting close to middle-aged for a humanoid hedgehog?

There was someone else with parents. A pink hedgehog. Sonic would have liked to have met those parents, just to get some ideas about what the average lifespan for a humanoid hedgehog might be. But... If Amy ever found out that he'd met with her parents... There was probably only one way that she would interpret that news. And while Sonic was not the sort to avoid creatures, he did avoid certain concepts. 'Settling down' sounded like a death sentence to him.

Negativity could not linger in this mind. Sonic was basically an optimist. He could not dwell on the idea of aging or maybe trying to talk to Tails about aging or the fact that someday he might need to find a way to tell Amy that while he respected her from a safe distance, he had no intention of ever marrying anyone. He stretched and savored the sensation of being warm again. It was very warm. The grass was damp and there were icicles on the nearby building but those were melting rapidly. The sky was almost as blue as he was and the sun was shining down intently and...

What could have changed the weather? It had been cold enough to snow, during the battle. Was it magic? Were the chaos emeralds causing this? Or had some evil person designed a weather-altering machine of some sort? Had anyone else been frozen? Or had he been the only target? Apparently the fox had defended itself.

Sonic stood up, still barefoot and not pleased about that. But feeling a little better, regardless. He had a sort of direction now. If there was something in this dimension that could control the weather... That was worth investigating. Maybe he would find a friend or an enemy or a chaos emerald. Maybe he would find a way home.

He just had to find some shoes first.

The people in this dimension were, Sonic felt, very weird. He didn't understand their language and couldn't talk to them and... Sonic ventured closer to the building because he was not tall enough to see over the grass. He could see the melting icicles on the building from far off but... He was a humanoid hedgehog. There was a fox out here that could cough walls of flame. There was apparently something else that could change the weather. Why were these people so friendly and polite? Why weren't they all terrified or running around in a panic? The building had several large windows. The people worked in the building, they must have been able to see the whole battle. Well. The slow parts, maybe. The fireballs. And the snowing. They should have noticed the changes in climate, at least. Why were the people not reacting? Had they not been paying attention? Or was it not a big deal, in this dimension, if the weather was strange and the animals were dangerous?

Just what was going on in this world?

The tall grass behind Sonic parted, Vulpersian was following him. The fox had its tufted ears flattened back and snarled in the direction of the building.

"What?" Sonic didn't see any reason for concern. He saw the building, the melting icicles and...

On the front step, a leafy potted plant.

It looked like the same one that he'd seen earlier, indoors. By the doorway of the room where he'd first woken up in this world. Wait. The humans had set an indoor plant outside? When it was snowing, they'd set a plant outside? Sonic was not a gardening expert or anything but even he knew better than this. Hrm. Maybe the humans in this world didn't know better. Or maybe the rules of plant care were different in this world.

Vulpersian exhaled a thin curling smoke from its nostrils and crouched in the grass, as if prepared to pounce.

Sonic had participated in many battles in his life but he was not inclined to give serious consideration to attacking a potted plant. It was a harmless fern. Why should he attack something that posed no threat to anyone and that clearly couldn't even defend itself? He didn't understand why the firefox seemed to want to attack the plant. "You have allergies or something?"

He took a step towards the building. Vulpersian hesitated but followed. "No. You stay here. I'll be right back." Sonic was going to knock again. Then he was going to run. To get inside, not to get away. Because if he could get inside... There had to be some decent shoes in there. And it wasn't really stealing. Not if he took good care of the shoes and brought them back later. He had every intention of doing so. Because exploring this dimension shouldn't take long, not with his speed. Not once he had some shoes. So finding himself a new pair of shoes... Or hey, maybe he'd even find his originals... Once he could explore further, it shouldn't take long. He'd get his own footwear somehow and return the borrowed set. That was the plan.

Sonic liked having a plan. Having a plan meant that he had reasons to act, to move. No more waiting around.

If the tall grass had not, in fact, been tall then Sonic might have noticed the pile of money laying on the ground a few feet away. The scientists hadn't come out to rake it up yet. They didn't rush to the task anymore. Vulpersian was always picking fights and using the Flaming Payday attack, the humans generally waited until the end of the week before cleaning the fields of magically summoned and slightly melted coins. Sometimes this chore only got done every other week. The novelty had worn off.

Vulpersian knew about the money but didn't care about it. Trainers might need money but pokemon generally didn't. If Vulpersian had been able to design its own attack then it probably would have chosen to have food magically appear instead.

Sonic walked past the leafy potted plant, focused on the door. The leafy potted plant did nothing. The air was very warm around it though.

Vulpersian glared at the plant and then at the back of the blue animal. Ah. The blue animal was going indoors. The trainer was gone. Did that mean the test was over?

The potted plant rustled and turned, ever so slightly. It had been set outdoors for two reasons. Protecting the building from a battle had been one of those reasons. The other one was now approaching.

Vulpersian heard the noise too and sat up, curious.

There was more than one road through the many acres of the New Species Testing Facility but there were not usually cars on these roads. The employees who worked out here came and went together, by bus. The scientists used a few assorted vehicles, to help patrol and maintain the grounds - but those were not cars. There were hardly any cars anymore, in this world. The environment had been cleaned up.

A car was coming down the road. It was a glossy white with red trim and painted with the mark of the League. It was being driven by one of the League Champions. In other worlds, the man behind the wheel might have passed for a lead guitarist in a goth-punk rock band. He had the overall look of one and seemed to dress that way as well. He parked the car, walked over to the building, glanced down at the watching Vulpersian with a thoughtful frown and then turned to the leafy potted plant with a smirk. "Ready to come home, I see."

Vulpersian glared for a while and then retreated, with the grace of a feline who has lost interest in a possible toy.

The leafy potted plant rustled.

The League Champion carefully transferred his pokemon to the car and left the radio on for it. He didn't worry about the car battery running low because the car was solar powered and the plant could see to that. Then he went indoors and had a chat with the local scientists about whether his plant had behaved, thanked them for taking good care of it, thanked them for the temporary loan, returned a pokeball to them, listened to their stories about a new blue animal, looked at some photos of it, leaned outside to inspect the icicles melting from the roofline and glimpsed - just barely - a blue blur escape the building.

And then he noticed something else.

"Hey!" The passing force of the blue blur had knocked people over. The bewildered visiting League Champion sat up. "That thing stole my shoes!"

The scientists, as a group, paused. The League was aware of many different criminal organizations. They had assumed that the blue creature - and the species name had been voted on, they were going to call it a Sandwag - had been illegally built by at least one of those criminal organizations. But... None of the known criminal groups of this world had a particular reputation for stealing footwear.

"Maybe that's why it got abandoned?" Suggested a geeky looking scientist.

"Those were expensive shoes..." said the League Champion, staring at his significantly less expensive socks.

"We'll comp you for them, sir." Said one of the senior scientists who wore the white lab coat over a business suit. "Vulpersian has been fighting a lot lately. We haven't even raked up all the money yet. Send us the bill, okay? That way it's a documented transaction."

"But... I kept my house key..." The League Champion began and then stopped, aware of the stares. He straightened up and took a more defensive stance, folding his arms. "What? Look, have you ever tried to keep track of a house key when you're in battles all the time? I have and let me tell you, necklaces and bracelets and keychains don't work. They fall apart! Why do you think I spent so much on my shoes?! They've got a hidden compartment for the storage of small items."

Outside in the car, a leafy potted plant was swaying to the music of the car radio. The genetic creations were curious about cars and also about music but none of them went anywhere near it.

Indoors, the visiting League Champion looked out at the meadow of tall grass. "I need my house key." He put his hands into the pockets of his jacket because that's where he kept the other pokeballs that he owned. "And I want my shoes back. If you can't catch the...what did you decide to call it? Sandwag? Oh. Okay. If you can't capture that sandwag with something here, I'm going to have to turn my team loose."

The scientists exchanged some glances. "Well, it did get frozen by the rejected..." Someone began to say.

"And you did just return TKO to us." Added someone else.

**ooxoo**

**T**he League Museum was closed to the public for the day. The Professors were still here, doing their routine after-hour work.

Mr. Frankly finished sweeping up. He did a last inspection, nodding as he went down the mental checklist. He'd taken out the trash, dusted the display cases and wiped up all the things visitors could spill. The museum was clean. He put the cleaning tools away and locked the supply closet. He resisted the temptation to play with the action figures in the gift store. He pulled on a long coat. He was almost done here, for today. He walked down the corridor.

Professor G. Yadont was assembling a detailed plaster replica of a pokemon skeleton for an exhibit. This required a great deal of concentration. Hence, out of respect, Mr. Frankly did not sneak up behind the Professor or turn off the lights or shout. Instead he stood by the exhibit under construction for a moment and merely waved goodbye once he had the Professors attention. Professor G. Yadont had his hands full of assembly instructions and delicate replica bones so he just nodded to acknowledge the farewell.

The museum was a quiet place when it was closed to the public. The office was not a quiet place. Professor D. Notatree seemed to be having multiple arguments at the same time. He had a desk with a phone and a computer on it and was using them both at once. Sometimes he would pause to shout a question or comment across the room or across the hall. And even though Professor Dearson Notatree disliked it when anyone called him by his first name, that was how he tended to address other people.

"What do you think, Carmen?" shouted Professor D. Notatree.

Her desk could have been a museum exhibit. She had to stand on her chair just to be seen over the stacks of paper, artifacts and assorted trinkets that her desk had acquired. It was the sort of desk that could reveal a few surprises if anyone ever bothered to clean it. "Have them double check." said Professor Carmen Yado. "The samples must have come from somewhere."

"They've already triple checked!" Professor D. Notatree was cradling the phone between his shoulder and his neck. He leaned toward his computer, reading some messages and typing several others. "None of the companies or storage specialists have been robbed, as far as they know. Nobody is missing any genetic material. The police haven't had any reports either. It must have taken some time to build the animal so they're all checking their files as well but so far, no leads. "

"Where in the world..." Muttered Carmen but mostly to herself. She frowned and tapped her fingers against the paperwork. Tapping her fingers against the desk would have required her to find her desk. The paperwork was not just on the desk but stacked around it. She had her own phone here somewhere but that would have required finding her desk as well.

"Maybe it was built legally? There wouldn't be a record of anything going missing if it was built legally." Professor D. Notatree shrugged, leaned back in his chair and raised his voice. "Glenn, what do you think?"

"When what?" Came the distracted reply from across the hall.

Mr. Frankly did not have a desk here. He was an apprentice and unoffical janitor. He was sometimes glad for this because he was able to escape to the supply closet when he needed to. Also, he didn't really need a desk here. Because Professor Dayoff had a desk here but she was almost never here. So everyone else used her desk.

Carmen was using it right now. She had found the phone in a drawer, plugged it in and had dialed some official numbers. Official phone numbers got answered quickly. "Hello? Yes. Right. Can you remind me of the procedure for issuing a League approved global order?" Carmen spoke into the phone, she was not the eldest professor here but she was the senior curator of the museum. "No, no. Nothing like that. We just need everyone to do a complete inventory and report by -"

Mr. Frankly did not mind being ignored a little. He did not mind watching the Professors at work. He was an apprentice. He admired these people and it was informative, to see how they worked. It was instructive. He was going to become an official League Historian someday. He was going to be doing this kind of work once he was professor. But... He had some important appointments today and his mode of transport was a bicycle so... "I'm off." He reported timidly, "See you all tomor-"

Professor D. Notatree paused his debate with the people on the phone and looked up from the computer screen full of research and instant messages. "Hrm? Oh. Have a good evening, Antoine."

Carmen looked up as well, she was writing notes with her fingers in the thin layer of dust on the empty desk. "That's right! Today is the day huh? Good luck, Mr. Frankly!"

"Thanks."

His long coat was such a dark blue that it was nearly black but the seam, the collar and the cuffs were all red. There were golden buttons and shoulderbars, as if this coat had belonged to a soldier once. His coworkers all called him the young one - and it was true, he was younger than them - but he was also old enough to have a thin blond mustache and goatee. He left the building, climbed on his bike and pedalled off. His long coat nearly got tangled once or twice in the wheels but eventually he got up the speed to have the coat flapping out behind him like a short cape.

Mr. Frankly was not ugly. He had a healthy frame, wide shoulders and slightly pointed facial features. He dressed neatly, right down to his polished brown boots. His skin was a pleasing dark tan. But his hair... The hair atop his head was short, blond and a constant battle. He did the best he could. For some reason his natural locks resembled a toupee. No matter what he did to try and alter his look, his hair always reverted to this style. People sometimes tried to pull his hair off his head, to see if it was real. Perhaps because of this Mr. Frankly had trouble making friends. So it was rare for him, to have a date.

**ooxoo**

**S**onic did not typically take the shoes off other peoples feet. This, he had to admit, was stealing. But he KNEW these shoes and... He had the sinking feeling that he knew the owner of these shoes, as well. Maybe. Kind of.

He'd stolen the shoes for three reasons. First, he needed shoes. Second, he wanted to inspect the shoes and really make sure that he wasn't mistaken. And third... If he wasn't mistaken... Sonic glanced over his shoulder. The building where the people were was not even visible anymore. He was out of sight from the place but he still felt the need for caution. Because the shoes were mostly white with red trim and dark heels. And they were, as it turned out, exactly what Sonic had thought that he'd seen.

_Shadow..._

Sonic had speed. His running skill could not be called natural but it did come to him naturally. Very few creatures had ever outrun him and those creatures had usually needed to have some extra help. Tails could keep pace in a jet, for example. And Shadow had the rocket shoes. Except that now... Sonic had those shoes.

... That human back there... The upswept spikey hairstyle had looked about right and the bangs had looked almost like small triangular ears... And the eyes had been right... And the heavy bracelets... And the human had been wearing a lot of black and red... So was it just the version of Shadow native to this world? Or had something gone really incredibly wrong? Sonic knew that it could be hard to avoid falling into other dimensions when you could run with such speed - had Shadow ended up here by accident? Had a chaos emerald backfired? Had an unstable magical field exploded around his rival? Had Shadow been sent here or tricked into coming? Or all of the above? Or weirder?

What if Shadow being in this dimension was not an accident?

"This is all kinds of not right." Sonic told the world at large. He tried the shoes on anyway. They were a size too big.

How had Shadow ended up being human? And how long had Shadow been here? And if Shadow was here then how many of the chaos emeralds might be...?

For some reason, Sonic could not accept the idea that the human he'd seen was just the version of Shadow native to this place. He could accept that Vulpersian was perhaps a native variation on Tails but... Then again, maybe after someone has traveled through so many dimensions then everyone else just started to look the same.

Sonic frowned at the tall grass. He remembered how the grass had failed to catch fire. So he picked a few handfuls of tall grass and stuffed the grass into the toes of the shoes. He was going to make these shoes fit. He couldn't give these back right away. Maybe not ever. He was partial to the idea of owning them and besides, he needed to get some answers.

Yes, it might be logical to go back down there and try to speak to the human that resembled Shadow but honestly... Sonic respected his rival. Really. He just mentally classed Shadow as being about the only creature in the multiverse who was more consistantly gullible than Knuckles. Because Shadow was - as Sonic had learned through the course of several battles - an artificial lifeform. Shadow had been built by humans. Who knew what kinds of things those humans might have left out. How much of Shadows brain was genuine intelligence and how much was ancient computer databases full of quirky glitches? Nobody was sure. Even if Shadows programming had been intact... But it wasn't. Shadow had been built and then damaged. Humans had both created and then tried to destroy the dark hedgehog. As a result Shadow had - eventually - been captured. He'd been kept in suspended animation for about fifty years and now he always tended to have varying degrees of amnesia, whenever he was conscious. So the dark hedgehog wasn't exactly known for being up to date on current events.

Sonic was willing to regard Shadow as a maybe-sort-of friend. Just not the kind of friend that you would ever call for help if you got stuck on a question. Or in a battle. Shadow could be a dangerous warrior when the mood struck and he had some great skills but social skills were not, as far as Sonic knew, on that list. It was hard to trust the guy. And for Sonic, who had even accepted help from his nemesis Dr. Robotnik on numerous occasions, that spoke volumes.

On top of all that remained the fact that Shadow appeared to be human now. And Sonic had already discovered that he could not communicate with the humans in this dimension. Sonic doubted that the rules would change just because he happened to recognize someone. On the one hand, standing right in front of Shadow and being able to say anything without fear of being understood or attacked... That was tempting. On the other hand, it wouldn't get any questions answered.

He hadn't forgotten about the Vulpersian. Sonic just didn't know what to make of the animal anymore. Maybe it would be okay, to leave the creature here? The humans in charge of the place didn't seem evil. Maybe this was a safe place for the strange animals?

Sonic preferred solo travel. It was easier to get around without being noticed too much when he went on his own. Having a fox that could cough a wall of flame might be handy but it would almost certainly be noticed. And the creature wasn't too fast, it wouldn't be able to keep up. Sonic didn't much like the idea of carrying it. He wanted to keep his hands free. Although the grumpy little fox had, Sonic was aware, already helped him. They had fought together. While Sonic didn't remember his recent moment of being frozen solid, he was experienced enough a warrior to recognize the signs of what had happened. So he knew that the fire-breathing fox had thawed him out. He shouldn't just walk out on a potential friend like that.

But if the Vulpersian was all the way back there, near the building... Sonic didn't expect the humans to be nice to him, now that he'd stolen some shoes. He didn't expect the humans to be nice to him if he tried to steal their fire-breathing animals either._ I'll have to come back for the kid later. _Sonic decided and then he blinked at his own mental process. Had he just thought that? The grumpy little fox - he had just thought of it as Tails again, hadn't he? Yes. _... Maybe I'm just homesick._

He was standing on a hilltop. It wasn't exactly a scenic viewpoint but it did offer some vistas. Sonic took a moment to inspect the unfamiliar world, he glanced around and surveyed the area. The main thing he was looking for was a fence. He'd kind of expected for all the animals to be contained. Perhaps there was a building full of cages somewhere? Or a perimeter wall? Some kind of boundary. But from here... It was just open countryside, as far as the eyes could see. There were grassy fields, gentle sloping hills and dirt roads.

It was a good place for a run. That would make him feel better.

A fence wouldn't have stopped him, anyway. Sonic could have gone over it or under it or - his favorite option - through it. The fact that there was no fence... That was a bit weird. Nice. But weird. And disorienting. A fence would have given Sonic a way to get his bearings, something to look for in the landscape and run alongside. An object to help identify the location with so that he could find his way back later. A direction to start in.

He picked a direction anyway and was off. Between the speed that came to him naturally and the boost from these shoes, Sonic very rarely had his feet on the ground.

A considerable distance behind him and several moments after his departure, the weather went a bit strange.

**ooxoo**

**O**nce upon a time, more than a hundred years ago, a peaceful little town had existed. Pallet Town. It had been such a simple and beautiful place. A coastal village too small to even have a port. The landward side had been hemmed in by meadows and forests and mountains. So much pristine wilderness, so few roads. Even when the town had started to grow and become famous, it had kept the small town feel.

Humans had not destroyed everything. Nature had contributed.

Pallet Town was an underwater ruin, these days. A large and active volcano - Cinnabar - had been located straight off their humble coastline. The inevitable eruption by itself had rearranged the map of this world but because Cinnabar had existed as an island, the shock waves had also hit the ocean and so there had been tidal waves and flooding. And the energy of the eruption had carried with the water, had transferred to the fault lines under the Pewter Mountains. Earthquakes and landslides had become a regular feature of the volcanic aftershocks.

With the passing of more than a hundred years and such a history of disaster, it was surprising how well some things had survived. But time does make its own changes.

A young man on a bicycle. When he was at work, he prefered to be called Mr. Frankly. That sounded more professional. When he was off work, he was himself. Antoine. More personal.

Now that the bike had enough speed to prevent his coat from becoming tangled in the wheels, he could relax and enjoy the view. As an apprentice historian, he had an idea of what this part of the world had been through. He looked at the layers of exposed rock in the sides of cliffs that had once been mountains. He looked at the subtropical swamps that had risen from the ancient forests. He tried to imagine what it might have been like, so long ago.

Some things hadn't changed. This part of the world was still called the Kanto region. This little town was called Ketchum, it had been named after someone. Ketchum Town was on the Indigo Plateau. The League Museum had always been on Indigo Plateau. The actual building had been moved and reconstructed a few times but it had remained in the same general area. Other buildings had not. The League Headquarters had moved to an entirely different region of the planet. The Master Labs, where scientists had built the first pokeballs and pokedexs for mass production, no longer even existed. There was no need. The technology had changed and the number of involved companies had increased, they were spread out everywhere. So were the Gyms.

No one looked at the current list of Gyms and thought about challenging all of them, anymore. Well. Hardly anyone.

At it's peak, the League had recognized more than eighty official pokemon Gyms. There were still about sixty. It was practical. Sixty sounded like a lot but the world was a big place. Even with so many Gyms, not every town had a local one. Plus only about half the Gyms in the world were actually open for business at any given time. Gyms had to schedule a shut down for at least a few months out of the year, just to clean up and make repairs to the place. This also gave the government a chance to do safety inspections and the League a chance to test the skills of the Gym Leaders and Gym Assistants. With Gym position jobs - and most other careers within the League - a trainer had to continue their education. You had to be able to continue demonstrating your skills, in order to keep your pokemon and your job.

This was, in fact, the main difference between an Apprentice Historian and an official League Historian.

Antoine did not have a pokemon yet. He had passed the tests and taken the classes and filled out the applications but his journey had not begun. Becoming an active trainer was a life-changing decision. It was not something to be rushed into. So he had not rushed. Antoine had made careful plans. He'd read the consumers guide to genetic pokemon, done some research and talked to the trainers that he knew - including all of the Professors at the museum - and so he knew which pokemon he wanted now. He just had to ride down to the company and place the order.

Well. To be more precise, he had to ride down to the train station and haul his bike onto the train and hope that the train was running on time today and... Try not to faint from happiness. Or anxiety.

Ketchum Town was situated closer to what had once been Pewter City. Many of the original routes and roads of the past had been lost to natural disasters and replaced with rails. In a world mostly without cars, trains kept the world connected. Mass transit was popular and clean. This was the Indigo Plateau. And the first stop, in the shadow of jagged mountains and abandoned mining towns, was the Emerald City.

And _she_ would be waiting, at the station there. With her bike. Antoine had always admired this lady however he had never quite gotten up the nerve to ask her out. He _had_ managed to ask her to come with him, to place the order for his first pokemon. And she'd agreed. Not only that, she had said that they should celebrate the occasion - go out for a special meal. So it was a date. Their first real official date.

He was twenty-seven. She was twenty-three. They had grown up in the same village and had gone to school together. Well. When she'd been around to attend school. Antoine had even gotten his first job working part-time at her families farm. He'd done all kinds of work at that humble little farm but the memory that stood out the most... Once, the farm had been vandalized. So he'd done some investigating and had eventually caught the vandals. Antoine had been thanked for his hard work and had been given a few gifts, including his favorite coat - it had once been part of a geniune security guards uniform - but he'd never gotten a date out of it. He'd felt that would be asking too much. He hadn't wanted to press his luck.

After graduating school, he'd moved off to Ketchum Town to be closer to the museum and pursue his goal of becoming a professor. And she'd come over to the Emerald City. They weren't neighbors or anything but they'd sort of kept in touch and... This girl... Antoine loved her so much that sometimes he could hardly speak around her.

The train was running ahead of schedule today. The sight of her was nearly enough to make him float, bike and all. The platform was crowded and busy with people getting on and off the train but as far as Antoine was concerned there was only one other person there.

"Hey, come on." She smiled, sitting on her bicycle. It had a basket on the front. "The company office closes soon."

"Thea..." In his head, her name sounded like music. But the music hit a sharp note and fell off a cliff when Antoine noticed the other bikes, beyond the platform. "...Er. You brought the whole Gym?"

"Sure!" Thea smiled, oblivious to the swirl of awkwardness that was forming around her childhood friend. "We're all happy for you! So come on!" Without waiting for a response, Thea pedalled furiously and did a stunt jump down from the train platform. The assembled bikers cheered and applauded.

Inwardly, Antoine sighed. He'd wanted it to be just the two of them for once but... This was what always happened. Thea was so likeable and well-known. There was always a group with her. And it wasn't an entirely bad group, either.

Thea had been working with pokemon since an early age, on her family farm. She had grown up around pokemon. She'd taken time off from school to do some traveling with pokemon, too. She was four years younger than Antoine but she was already employed by the League. At work, Antoine was most often called Mr. Frankly. At work, Thea was called Miss Gale. She was the Emerald City Gym Leader. She must have just come from there, too. Her work clothes bore the abstract design of a tornado - the diagonal stripes wrapped all the way around her, to help create the impression that she was at the center of a storm. She even wrapped ribbons through her braided hair at a slant to continue the theme. Yet the mark of her Gym was not a tornado because that design had already been in use, at another Gym. So instead the mark of her Gym was a pair of shiny red shoes. And she wore a pair on her feet, as well.

_No place like home._ Antoine thought. He was so disappointed that he almost wanted to turn around and head in that direction. It took a few deep breaths for this feeling to subside. He loved Thea so much that he could not remain disappointed while in her presence. Even if this wasn't a date... It was an important day. He was finally going to place the order for his first pokemon. Better to have Thea with her group than no Thea at all.

He got on his bicycle and followed her down, minus the stunt jump.

**ooxoo**

**E**very season has its weather. The New Species Testing Facility was currently experiencing all of them and then some. Well, at least this area of the facility was. The Facility covered many acres. The strange weather did not. Just in one place it was sunny and raining and snowing and windy. There was also a sandstorm brewing.

Weather related attacks had been a point of contention for many years between the League and basically everyone else. Imagine a farmer. Imagine a field full of crops, almost ready to be harvested. Then some little kids come along and say: "Hey, this is a nice open space. Let's have a battle here!" The pokemon and their trainers can walk away from the casual battle. The crops get ruined. The farmer goes broke. The world population takes a small step closer to mass starvation.

A hundred or more years ago, events like that had been tragically common. Trainers had forgotten that the world at large was sensitive to temperatures. Trainers in general had been such a huge part of their own culture that they'd forgotten to be considerate of the world that made their culture possible. The stability of the environment had been taken for granted. Trainers had gone everywhere and had gradually changed the world climate, one battle at a time. They'd summoned rainstorms into deserts and had caused blizzards in tropical jungles, among other things. Even when the storms were short-lived, these sorts of changes had wider effects. Pokemon had not been the only creatures to go extinct. Wild and domestic creatures of all sorts had suffered. The people who had relied on those creatures had also, in turn, suffered.

It was yet another mistake that humanity had needed to make and learn from. Thankfully, the damage had not been so far gone as to be irreversible. The work to repair the environment was ongoing but at least humanity was on the right track, now.

The government had outlawed weather altering attacks, for a while. But the League and certain businesses had argued and proven that weather related attacks - when used responsibly - could be put to good use. So now it was legal again. The League had agreed to some changes though: if a trainer had their pokemon use a weather altering attack then they had better either be on League property or own the area where the battle was taking place. These days if some inconsiderate little kids wandered on to a strangers farm and destroyed the crops by holding a battle there then the government would want them for trespassing and vandalism. The League would suspend their trainers licenses and take away their pokemon. And the farmer would take them to court, demanding that these kids pay for the estimated gross fair market value of the crops that they had ruined. And if the trainers couldn't pay then they might be ordered to work off their debt by doing hard labor. So trainers tended to be a lot more responsible with weather altering attacks these days.

This was another reason why the world still had so many Gyms. The Gyms gave trainers a place to have casual battles without having to worry about lawsuits from landowners.

New pokemon were not fully aware of these things. They had not been approved by the League yet - and some of them never would be. So they'd never had trainers and didn't really understand what kinds of things a trainer might have to worry about. The genetic creations did not stand around waiting for trainers to give orders. The genetic animals had been designed for battle. They reacted instinctively. And the New Species Testing Facility was League property, anyway.

Vulpersian did not mind the effects of Sunny Day but was wary about what might follow.

The League Champion stood to one side, arms folded and eyes half closed as if he'd seen all this before and found it a tad dull. Or maybe he was having a flashback. Or maybe he was just upset that his shoes had not yet been recovered. The potted plant was still over in the parked car, swaying to music. Earlier, the potted plant had been the one to defend the building.

With pokemon being harder to earn and customization being so popular, trades were rare. What was more common - and less formal - were loans. A trainer could borrow another trainers pokemon as long as they were willing to put up one of their own pokemon for collateral. The League Champion had borrowed a creature and had left the potted plant. The genetic pokemon did not fully understand all the details of these things - but they had noticed the absence of one pokemon and the presence of another.

TKO was just a name. For an electric elephant, the humans called its species Phaneep. TKO usually defended the building where the geeky scientists worked.

Vulpersian did not like electric elephants.

Neither did most of the other new species. That's why they were greeting TKO with a wide array of attacks. The facility didn't need fences when it had such effective wardens. It wasn't that TKO was invincible. The elephant could be beaten. You just had to get close enough. That was the problem. Well, that was the first part of the problem.

TKO flapped its large ears and created a gust of wind, diverting multiple attacks and throwing some opponents back even as it built a charge in its wool. TKO lowered its head and raised its trunk and blasted out a call for help, releasing a shockwave as it did so. It wasn't long before an answering blast was heard.

There was a genetic company somewhere on Earth that loved elephants. They'd done a whole series of them. Different styles of attack and defense. The New Species Testing Facility was just one of the businesses that employed the teamwork of the Phan series. If you had enough elephants, they could be trained to patrol a space and herd other creatures. The scientists were League employees. The various elephants were their pokemon. The scientists had faith in the combined skills of these creatures. But they hadn't found the sandwag yet.

Vulpersian had mixed feelings on this subject.

The blue animal - or was it a trainer? - had said that it would be right back. And then it had run off. There was no matching the obnoxious things speed. And the blue creature must have done something to upset the humans because the humans were looking for it now. And everyone else was being punished, it seemed. And that wasn't fair. If it had just been the elephants, that wouldn't have been so bad. But there was the potted plant as well. And sooner or later, the owner of the potted plant would get impatient and order an attack. And this human had visited the Testing Facility before. So the new species recognized that he was a League Champion. They remembered that he had other pokemon, whose styles worked well with the potted plant.

Against the elephants, it might be a long battle. Against the Champions team, it wouldn't be. Either way it was a losing fight.

Vulpersian snarled and leapt forward anyway, exhaling flames. Trailing colorful smoke and summoning a heavy cloudburst of overheated coins.

Earlier the blue animal had worked with Vulpersian, they had attacked together. None of the other new species at the Testing Facility had ever done this. The pokemon had all been told that teamwork was important but they had understood this to mean that teamwork was only important once they had a trainer to work with. It didn't occur to the genetics to even try to work together. It was survival of the fittest, out in the meadows. Each creature for itself.

**ooxoo**

A grassy hillside with a dark skid mark. Two small piles of bright flame, spaced more than a hundred yards apart. And the universes most frustrated speed demon, standing ankle-deep in a convenient lake.

Sonic was learning new things. Grass that could resist catching fire around animals that coughed flames was not able to resist catching fire when he moved it at speeds that not even he was entirely accustomed to. And once the grass was burning, it shrank and so the shoes had fallen off before he'd even had a chance to register pain and... The shoes did not have laces or buckles or anything. How was he supposed to wear them if he couldn't make them fit?

His feet were not happy with him. The shoes bursting into flame had not been great but he'd actually done more harm to himself by skidding to a stop barefoot, after the shoes had fallen off. Thank goodness for convenient lakes.

Sonic was not opposed to water. Like most carbon-based lifeforms, he required water to live. Besides, he could tread water. He could tread air if he had to. He could run across just about anything. It was the idea of being _under_water that bothered him. Sonic could breathe in outer space - being able to breathe at high speeds had prepared him for places where the air was thin - but not underwater.

The small fires gradually burned themselves out. The shoes were smoking but still intact. Any material that could survive whatever Shadow had endured in his life was not going to be easily destroyed. Sonic could have thrown water at the shoes or he could have thrown them into the lake but he'd expected for the shoes to be fine. It was only the grass that had burned.

Sonics brain took this moment to revisit the subject of aging. He knew that Shadow had been captured for about fifty years and had been alive before being captured and... So did that make Shadow over the age of fifty or what? Shadow only looked about fifteen, in Sonics opinion. Had he been fifteen forever? Did creatures kept in suspended animation age? Did artificial lifeforms even age to begin with? Had Shadow ever been a kid or had he just been built as an adult? And why the heck had those ancient humans decided to build a hedgehog-shaped creature? The humans could have chosen any shape, right? Sonic had done some time traveling and dimension-jumping but he had not, as far as he knew, inspired any ancient human scientists to build Shadow. Had they been inspired by other humanoid hedgehogs, maybe? Between being a hedgehog and an orphan, Sonic couldn't help being curious. If only Shadow wasn't the personification of bad memory, it might have been informative to hang out and have some conversations.

No. Wait. Ancient was the wrong word. Ancient made it sound like something that had happened hundreds of years ago. Shadow had been built by Dr. Robotniks grandfather. Two short generations ago. Not even a full hundred years, probably. If Shadow had been based off other hedgehogs... Had Dr. Robotniks grandfather been aware of Sonics ancestors?

It was weird to contemplate. Sonic generally didn't think about things like this with any depth - he didn't usually have time - but at the moment he was just soaking his feet and waiting for the shoes to cool off. He was going to have to find a way to make the shoes stay on and then he was going to have to run around until he saw... Well. Sonic didn't really know what he was looking for yet. That was okay, Sonic figured that he'd know it when he saw it. He expected for the chaos emeralds to be involved. They generally were. And he would probably have to defeat something evil. And the evil things would have him outnumbered, they always did. But it was nothing to worry about. After his victory, the way back home would be revealed and Sonic would be able to return to his own dimension. That was basically how his adventures had always worked before, at least.

However the laws of nature might be in the mood to shake things up.

Nothing could match the blue hedgehogs speed. Except - and Sonic was not entirely aware of this - the speed of modern communication.

All around the world, the League was already being notified.

**ooxoo**

**H**alf a dozen phones rang in unison. A group of bikers pulled off the dirt road to check their incoming messages.

Antoine felt a bit left out. Working at the museum kept him aware of the news within the League but he was just an apprentice. He wasn't an official League employee yet. He didn't get newsflashes sent directly to him.

There were a lot of trainers in the world who only had one pokemon. Most of these trainers only wanted to have one pokemon but others simply could not defeat a gym and earn the right to have a second pokemon. Third and fourth pokemon had to be earned by defeating gyms as well. In order to have five or more pokemon, a trainer had to take the League Challenge.

However any trainer, even a trainer who only had one pokemon, could take the League Challenge. This was the path to working for the League. Because in order to be invited to work for the League, a trainer had to pass the Challenge. That was the common point. The League employed many people in many positions and had different standards for each job - a Champion had to have at least three pokemon. A Gym Leader or Gym Assistant had to have at least two. An aspiring scientist or historian could get away with training just one creature, as long as the rules were followed.

Antoine knew the rules. He was going to order his first pokemon. He was going to befriend it, take good care of it and take time off to travel with it. There were around sixty gyms in the world and even if he didn't intend to challenge a single one of them, he had to go to at least a few of them. Contest Halls, Battle Towers and specialized Trainer Schools had once existed separately - but now the Gyms did all of these things as well. The Gyms were community centers, more or less. New trainers had to attend the classes with their pokemon, it was mandatory. If he got good grades then, after a minimum of eighteen months spent living with the creature had passed, he could challenge the League. If he passed the Challenge then he would become an official League employee. He would still have some postgraduate work to finish up before he could also be called Professor.

He was twenty-seven. Even if all went well with his new pokemon, he still could not challenge the League much before he was twenty-nine. There were special exceptions to any set of rules, of course but none of those currently applied to Antoine.

"Must have gotten past the elephants..." Thea was saying. She was looking down at her phone, reading the screen and tapping her replies into a tiny keyboard.

The scientists at the Testing Facility had sent out photos and a rough description of Sonic to every League employee - but they called him a sandwag.

"See it and catch it?" Antoine guessed, fidgeting as he sat on his bike and trying to discreetly lean in to read over Theas shoulder.

One of the Gym Assistants looked up. "Says here, it's weak against ice types..."

"No." Thea said with authority. "The order is see it and report it. They think the sandwag might lead them back to the people who built it. And they aren't even completely sure what type it is - flying or ground or water - so it'd be wise to avoid starting fights."

Another series of musical rings, another incoming message. Followed by a sort of collective wistful sigh from all the females in the group and a sort of collective scowl from all the males.

There was a system of rank, among the League Champions. Because there was more than one League Champion. In truth the Gym Leaders were a type of League Champion. Exceptional scientists were League Champions. Anyone who had a long work history of serving the League was a League Champion. There were people without pokemon, people who weren't even trainers but they did important things to support the work of the trainers - the lawyers and accountants and repairmen and fanclubs and so forth. Even they, it could be argued, should be considered Champions of the League on some level. But the group that actually went around calling themselves the League Champions was fairly small and elite. The Champions were ranked by their job performance, their battle records and how long they had been employed. And the most recent incoming message was from one of those people. He was not yet ranked very highly since no one was quite sure where he had come from or when the League had hired him. There wasn't much record of the mans existence but he'd already defeated enough Gyms to make it clear that even if perhaps he wasn't technically a proper Champion, he could easily become one. So the League had accepted him as such and left him alone. The media referred to him as Mister Mysterious. A select few of his peers knew him as Adam.

Those peers didn't know that he'd first remembered his name as 'Adow'.

Nevertheless, he had a lot of admirers.

Antoine was not one of them. "Why would he be after it?!"

"Uhm..." Thea returned from the realm of daydreams and clicked around on her phone. "Doesn't say. But he wants any sightings reported to him, first." She shrugged and then noticed the clock display in the corner of her phone screen. "Ah! We're gonna be late!" She jammed the phone back into a pocket and put her sparkly red shoes to the bike pedals. "Lets go!"

**ooxoo**

**P**rofessor Carmen Yado hung up her tattered lab coat, put away both sets of glasses and pulled on a stylish leather jacket. She walked briskly around the museum, following a routine. Checking to be sure that everything was in its place, all the doors and windows were locked, the lights were off - that sort of thing. As the senior curator, it was her responsibility to be absolutely certain that the League Museum was secure before she left.

She reached the front doors and nodded, satisfied. They had gotten a lot of work done today and tomorrow was already looking interesting. But the professors were human and mortal and even though they were workaholics... They recognized the benefits of stepping out to see if they could remember where they lived once in a while. There was only one thing left to do before the museum was closed for the night.

"Time to go home." said Carmen. Her voice echoed through the museum foyer. She jangled her keys for emphasis.

Professor D. Notatree was already outside and appeared to be having a conversation with, yes, a tree. Professor G. Yadont was standing further down on the steps and seemed to have a small skeletal exhibit stalking him. The League Historians were trainers mainly since they had to be trainers in order to be official League employees. And these were the sorts of pokemon that the League Historians traditionally favored because an entire busload of children could walk right by the creatures without noticing them. Although, truth be told... Carmen, with her bright hair and her funky clothing and her habit of skipping around while singing cheerful songs about the disasterous mistakes of history... The kids who took the tour might forget everything else about the museum but they would remember Carmen. With Carmen around to make education interesting, the pokemon could have put on a choreographed floorshow and they might still have failed to gain any notice.

One had. Put on a choreographed floorshow, that is. And failed to gain any notice.

Standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, Carmen looked up at the museum ceiling and addressed her own pokemon. "Oh, come on. Why are you always so sulky at the end of the day? Don't you want to come home? Your favorite soap opera is nearly on."

A series of scratching noises and a slight whine are the reply.

"I could just lock you in here for the night, you know." Carmen threatens. She is the senior curator. People expected her be responsible and prompt but because of debates like this, she tends to always be a few minutes late. So she is feeling a smidge frustrated. "Remember what happened last time?"

A high-pitched hum and more scratching noises.

"Yes. And that was very expensive to replace." Carmen has been with her pokemon for long enough that she can pretend to understand it even though she doesn't. Well. Kind of. Carmen felt that having pokemon was sort of like having kids. You raised them and trained them and studied with them and loved them and took care of them and worried about them - but you didn't always understand them. Even parents and kids who spoke the same language didn't always fully understand each other. Pokemon were like that, only plus a language barrier. And a species barrier. And the annoying tendancy to be strong enough to defy their trainers even more often than the average rebellious human child might defy their parents. Still. Every good parent - and every great trainer - knows how make their message clear and get results. There are two paths: reward and punishment. Either give the kid something or take something away. It was what happened all over the universe, it was an ancient interdimensional truth. All the parent had to know was what kinds of things the kids would react to either gaining or losing.

Carmen knew her pokemon. So she put her hands into her pockets, did her best to adopt a wistful expression and gazed out the doorway. "Well, I _was_ going to wander by the tent on the way home and maybe challenge..." She began.

Her pokemon did have favorite toys and foods and shows but mostly, the creature craved respect. And as far as certain pokemon were concerned, respect was something that had to be earned in battle. So at the mention of a challenge, a gleaming shape dropped from the ceiling. It landed on six legs but had a total of eight - the two in back were shorter and did not touch the ground. The creature scrambled a few steps, its feet clicking with each movement and then fluttered. Carmen held her arms out at her sides and allowed the pokemon to land on her back. Six long legs took a moment to be arranged. Once the creature was settled... Carmen was a middle-aged lady but she now appeared to be wearing the type of whimsical backpack usually designed for young children. Except that there were no pockets. Or zippers. There were polka dots, though. Shiny ones. And the backpack was oval shaped. And red.

From the front, she still resembled a human scientist. From the back, she now appeared to be a giant metallic ladybug. The shell lifted, parting in the middle. The wings hummed with impatience. Professor Carmen Yado was literally getting carried away. She folded her arms and grumbled a few choice words about insects and their attention spans as this was happening.

Her colleagues watched this without panicking, it was a scene they saw often. Professor D. Notatree stood beside his tree and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Don't worry Carmen, we'll lock the front doors!"

"Insects are such maniacs." Professor G. Yadont stood on the steps with a small skeletal animal creaking around his ankles, watching the sky. "I do hope that young Mr. Frankly isn't going to order one of those."

**ooxoo**


	4. 2:2

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**2:2**

**K**nuckles was not having a great day. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself but doing so required being able to get up. Right now, he couldn't.

He wasn't easily harmed, either. He had the strength to defend himself - and others - most of the time. Knuckles couldn't have survived being the Guardian otherwise. He was incredibily resilent. The sort of creature who can get run over and still come up swinging, if you recall. But that last punch he'd thrown... Knuckles had been under the influence of a wandering magical field. So it hadn't even been a strong attack. And the entire floating island had flipped to block the punch. And so instead of punching the ground, he'd sort of been punched by it.

Regular creatures might have been killed by such an event or at least violently flung into the distant horizon. Knuckles had only broken an arm.

He was currently anchored to the ground by his broken arm. This would be why he couldn't get up. It was excruiatingly painful to even attempt to pull the arm loose. He'd already discovered that. However being a tough survivor, he'd worked out an alternate plan. So Knuckles was laying flat on his stomach with his eyes closed and his teeth gritted and fur bristling. He was burrowing with one hand - the healthly one - in an attempt to set his broken arm free. He is not making much progress. It's almost as if the ground refuses to let go. Being thus distracted by pain and focused on the need to regain mobility, Knuckles doesn't immediately notice the change of surroundings.

Never let it be said that the laws of nature are entirely unkind.

The sound registers first. And there is so much sound that it doesn't even register clearly. But somewhere above all the other noises, there's a whistle. And the person with the whistle also has a microphone clipped to the collar of their striped uniform.

"Injury time out!" shouts the referee.

Knuckles has just opened his eyes enough to notice that some idiot has gone and painted white lines through the meadow. Oh and there's numbers as well! In bold print, even! What kind of people...

A dozen people kneel around him. These people are willing to accept the idea that anyone or anything who shows up injured on this field while they are visiting is probably their responsibility.

Knuckles is the Guardian of the floating island. He is seventeen and has spent most of his life in isolation. To say that he is not accustomed to being the center of attention would be a polite understatement. He can understand these people - they are all talking at once, asking him questions like if he remembers what happened and how many fingers are they holding up - but Knuckles feels like he should be the one asking questions. And he doesn't like being reminded that he doesn't have fingers, thank you very much. And he really doesn't like being touched, even if it's just people taking his pulse or placing a hand on his shoulder or poking him to see if he's okay. "Who are all of you? How did you get here? What are you doing here? Leave me alone!" snarls the red echidna.

And now, says the laws of nature, for my next trick...

But all that Knuckles can hear are the people immediately around him. Who are holding on to him just a tiny bit more firmly now. These humans are talking mostly to each other. Saying things like "The arm looks bad...", "Where did the expensive tire tracks come from?" and "Could have a concussion too."

With consideration for his broken arm, Knuckles tries to sit up. This is managable but is not a great idea. For one reason: now Knuckles can see past the dozen people who are kneeling attentively around him.

There are a whole lot more people. Two entire teams, the coaches, the referees, the support staff, the media, the packed stadium, the blimp passing overhead...

It's a college football game.

Knuckles has helped to save the world before. He's seen large crowds and been in large crowds. However he's never been the actual focal point of a large crowd. Until today. Therefore, Knuckles enters the realm of reflex-induced paralysis. He doesn't even blink when one of the medics shines a flashlight into his widened eyes.

One of the coaches turns to signal the sideline, requesting a cart. This allows Knuckles to notice a certain logo. This particular logo is also visible on the blimp, on the field, on the uniforms of half the players and coaches and support crew and on the apparel of slightly more than half the stadium audience - but this is Knuckles first good look at the logo. It is a bright yellow logo which features the snarling head of something that looks like small bear centered over a single word: Wolverines.

The other football team has a logo as well - and theirs is also on the stadium itself, in addition to all the other places - but we'll get back to that later.

Pride cuts through some of the shock. "But... I'm not a..." Knuckles begins, sounding as bewildered as he usually feels. He has always been fairly certain of his own species. He's never had to contend with several thousand other people sincerely believing that he is not an echidna, though. Especially not all at once.

It's only ever taken one person to convince him that the world is ending, remarks The Master Emerald.

You can't have just one person at a football game, says the laws of nature.

The cart arrives. The medics - those who aren't already taping his broken arm into a temporary splint or trying to reassure him that everything is going to be all right, he just might not be able to play football for a while - manage to free his hand from the ground by surgically removing the glove. Knuckles is placed on a stretcher and lifted into the back of the cart. With a group of attending medics still fussing over him and a standing ovation from the no longer hushed crowd, he is carted off the field.

"But...I'm an echidna..." Knuckles stammers once they're in the tunnels under the stadium, past the locker room and headed for the medical bay. The sounds of the football game resuming echo down the corridor.

"We'll get you something to eat later." Assures one of the nice but slightly deaf medics who is taping his arm.

The laws of nature do a theatrical bow. A location that had been projected onto the floating island fades, taking Knuckles with it.

The large floating island - current population zero - continues to be steered by The Master Emerald. The Master Emerald is possessing the island. The soul of a giant rock does not have a throat and does not need to breathe but after a few uneventful minutes, it politely mimics the sound of a throat being expectantly cleared.

Yes? says the laws of nature.

Don't you have to be consistant? points out The Master Emerald. If Sonic falling into a different dimension results in Sonics weight in pokeballs ending up here then we should have Knuckles weight in assorted football gear appearing at any moment, correct?

Ah, I see what you mean... says the laws of nature. ...but that WAS NOT a different dimension. Used to be. But it isn't, anymore.

Oh.

Even The Master Emerald is surprised but not for very long. Being a giant ancient rock surrounded by unstable magical fields, The Master Emerald has seen some changes in its time. Because of this The Master Emerald is mildly aware of the current state of the multiverse. Creatures who have survived disasters in the past do tend to recognize when another disaster is coming, that's all. And change wasn't something that could be prevented - no matter what anyone said or did. Change was a universal constant. Things were always changing, on some level or another. Change was a necessary ingredient for life, death and everything inbetween. But when the whole system was being overhauled, when the very laws of nature started changing...

The coming storm, thought The Master Emerald rather sagely, was going to be tough to ride out. The Master Emerald was glad that the Guardian was far away. The maybe-not-an echidna was a decent kid - although the rock considered pretty much anything mortal to be a kid and basically anyone who had ever been a Guardian to be decent - who deserved a vacation. Sometimes, The Master Emerald knew, it was the Guardian who needed to be guarded. Perhaps this was just one of those times. Things might get kind of dicey and abstract.

A few more uneventful moments pass in silence.

What about Shadow? The Master Emerald asked eventually. He's in a different dimension, right? So have we gotten Shadows weight in anything?

The laws of nature spend several minutes laughing.

Another traveling silence.

We still haven't found a Chaos Emerald, observed The Master Emerald conversationally.

Tricky little rascals, aren't they? smiles the laws of nature. Accurately named, too.

The large floating island made a wide right turn, swaying and rocking like a ship in rough waves as it glided through the air towards a destination that only The Master Emerald knew. The island was a magnet for weird and dangerous events. Bizarre disasters tended to start in the vicinity of the floating island and just _spread_...

**ooxoo**

**D**r. Ivo Robotnik knows about the chaos emeralds. He doesn't currently respect them enough to capitalize the words but he does understand one vital thing: the chaos emeralds are accurately named.

That's about as much as anyone knows for sure.

There were ancient legends and modern legends and also just stories that weren't quite written well enough to be considered legendary but... History, mythology, literature - it was all speculation, when you got right down to it. How many chaos emeralds were there? Nobody really knew. Seven was usually considered a full set although sometimes people could only find six. Maybe there were only seven or eight in total but there could be fourteen or twenty-three or fifty-two. There could be hundreds or thousands or millions. There could be more than millions. New numbers might have to be invented to express the true quantity. Because perhaps for every star in the sky, wave on the ocean or grain of sand on the beach there was a chaos emerald. Perhaps for every single moment... For every second of every minute, hour, day, week, year, decade... There was a jewel.

Could it be that each and every time Dr. Robotnik had seen one of the gems, it was a new one that he'd never truly seen before?

He could give himself a severe headache thinking this way but the theory did seem plausible. Because the chaos emeralds were unpredictable. The jewels changed their colors, once in a while. And the way that they reacted to things... In the past Dr. Robotnik had tried to use chaos emeralds - or even just the shards of one - to power a machine. Sometimes this worked but sometimes the emerald would cause the machine to blow up. Sometimes the chaos emeralds could be kept all together, in the same room and sometimes it wasn't safe to have even two of them in the same building. Sometimes the chaos emeralds were drawn to the Master Emerald and other times they were repelled by it. Occasionally they did both. It was a subject of much study and confusion, for Dr. Robotnik. He viewed the chaos emeralds as a wild and unstable power source. He wanted to tame and stabilize them someday. Make them more useable. For his own uses, of course.

How did the animals do it? Certain creatures had learned to use the jewels with more success. Well. That depended on the definition of success. Shadow was the most fluent in using the jewels to enhance his own powers but what kind of success was perpetual amnesia? Dr. Robotnik wanted to rule the world. Having amnesia was not the kind of price he was willing to pay to accomplish that goal. Having any kind of amnesia at all was probably not going to help him get things done, with regard to taking over the planet.

Although, being able to forget about the many years of being repeatedly defeated by some overrated blue... No. Sonic, curse him, had provided a plethora of valuable lessons. Dr. Robotnik doubted that he could afford to forget his nemesis. He'd improved his own skills so much, just to try and kill the hedgehog. If Dr. Robotnik forgot all that he'd endured then, even if Sonic were dead, he might not last long as the ruler of the world. Because Sonic had friends and allies these days - and they had learned a lot from the hedgehog, too. They would be bound to resist.

Really, some days about the only thing that kept Dr. Robotnik going was the concept of age. Because hedgehogs tended to have shorter lifespans than humans. If Dr. Robotnik could just outlive the entire current group of heros THEN maybe he could finally conquer... But Sonic kept making friends who were younger. The rabbit girl was seven years old, for crimineys sake. Dr. Robotnik could certainly be described as persistant - there was no question about that but... How long might the animals live? How long would he need to wait, in order for all these irritating creatures to keel over from natural causes? Dr. Ivo Robotnik wasn't a young man anymore and he didn't have THAT much patience. If only there was a way to kill the blue hedgehog AND the spirit of resistence that Sonic had inspired in others.

On the subject of hedgehogs, there was a pink one. A girl. Her name was flowery. Dr. Robotnik could not remember such details. He wasn't interested in the girl herself. Instead, as a moderate genius, Dr. Robotnik was perplexed by the fact that if the girl was kidnapped then Sonic would rescue her. Sonic was clearly uncomfortable around the girl but he'd always come to rescue her. It just made no sense. If the girl was outside of a cage, Sonic would run away from her but if she was inside a cage then he'd go to rescue her. Even the girl herself, she seemed to have noticed this effect. She hardly resisted being kidnapped sometimes. Did she just like being rescued?

Dr. Robotnik wished that he could think of a way to use this observation to his advantage but social skills were not his best talent. He felt on more solid footing with the chaos emeralds, even with as unpredictable as they were.

Perhaps every world and dimension had its own chaos emeralds. Dr. Robotnik had been to some other dimensions and not always deliberately. He knew that it wasn't impossible for ideas to cross the boundaries - no matter how alien the other worlds were, there was always something around that seemed familiar. He knew as well that sometimes, the chaos emeralds changed their basic appearance. Instead of being jewels they might become other shapes and textures. Other kinds of collectible artifacts. Maybe cursed rings or enchanted swords or dragonballs or... Wait. What? No.

The Master Emerald was like a giant. That was a better way to think of it. Giants didn't need big personalities. Giants were giant, they commanded attention and radiated power just by being themselves. But the chaos emeralds - they were huge next to any kind of normal jewelry but next to The Master Emerald, they were dwarfed. Yes. Ha! Dwarves! And short creatures in general tended to have big personalities because they felt that they needed to prove themselves.

_The seven dwarves..._ Dr. Ivo Robotnik frowned and shook his head. It was an interesting comparision but perhaps he'd been blown up one too many times. The chaos emeralds had a lot of energy but they had never become independent living things, not as far as he could recall.

And then a very short man entered the bar.

Misery loves company, that's what the bar could have been called - but it wasn't. The place had a whole slew of different names. It seemed to be at an interdimensional crossroads, both the sign outside and the management inside had been changed every time that he came for a visit. Currently, the place was called Moes.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik was an adult. He could legally have a drink and once in a while, he needed one. Although this place... It had a certain atmosphere and catered to a certain crowd. The drinks were watered down to reflect that. Everyone needs a place to go, to feel better about themselves. Dr. Robotnik came here. Not so often as he once had. And he didn't come for the drink, most of the time. He would seek out this dingy tavern after a crushing defeat or a base blowing up or a robot turning against him... Okay, so it was still fairly often. But he ordered a drink only because the drink was a necessary prop in this place. If you had a drink on the counter in front of you then - even if you never actually drank the drink - nobody would get suspicious about why you were here. He could just sit and listen.

A humanoid coyote was seated in a dark corner, he was a regular here. Never said much. Always looked as if he'd just been run over or had something backfire on him. Sometimes had an Acme catalog. Ordered the sort of drinks that were served with several tiny umbrellas sticking out of the glass. Clearly a misunderstood genius. There were other regulars in this crowd as well and some of them were more talkative. Over the years Dr. Robotnik had gotten many good ideas for schemes and inventions by eavesdropping on them. He'd also gotten many terrible ideas for schemes and inventions from eavesdropping on them. But Dr. Robotnik had never seen this particular very short man before and so, hoping for inspiration and brimming with curiousity, he decided to pay extra attention to the newcomer.

Standing at perhaps three and half feet tall, the man wore only black. He dressed in the style of a private detective or maybe an old-fashioned spy. His hat, his coat, his shirt, his pants and shoes - they were all black. So was his pencil-thin mustache, his bushy eyebrows and what thinning hair he had left. The newcomer walked with his heels together and his toes pointing in opposite directions - it was an interesting sight - and slouched when he sat. He glanced around the room with shifty eyes as if constantly expecting to be assaulted.

Usually Dr. Robotnik only listened. He had admitted his failures to himself but he wasn't eager to admit them to anyone else. Not even to creatures who might be in a position to try and understand his increasing paranoia or relate to his frustation. But the very short man in black was muttering with a heavy accent and Dr. Robotnik could not eavesdrop properly on someone that he could barely understand. At least if they faced each other, he could maybe lip read.

What was the best protocol for introductions? The people here might be talkative sometimes but they weren't exactly friendly.

"Excuse me... I couldn't help but notice..." Dr. Robotnik hazarded, "Did you just say something about a moose and squirrel?"

The short man stood up on the bar, he hadn't even had a drink yet but he was already a little unsteady. "You don't ever say those words!" His voice was a deep tenor and his accent seemed to fade with anger. "I been trying to kill those animals since 1959 and they don't even know my name!" The man lowered his clenched fists, his expression locked somewhere between defeated and in awe of his own dedication. "I'm such a master of disguise, they don't even recognize me!"

Dr. Robotnik was leaning back from the short person standing on the bar. "... Err. Impressive. Who are you?"

Boris Badenov recovered some of his composure. "Why you care? Get lost." He tipped his hat as if the phrase 'get lost' had been casual but bitter 'good afternoon, sir' and walked back to his seat.

Dr. Robotnik waited. Boris ordered a glass of wine and then had an argument with the bartender about why certain imported wines should be carried in all bars. The bartender, Moe, was a grumpy type but fairly practical and kept a rifle under the counter. Moe only had to threaten to use the gun. Boris was upset but not bulletproof so he ordered a different drink.

"What about hedgehogs?" Dr. Robotnik inquired once the order had been placed. He was feeling a strange kinship to this vertically challenged stranger. "Have you ever thought about trying to kill a hedgehog?"

"Only moose and squirrel." Boris replied after a wary moments consideration. He was reading a newspaper but it was hard for anyone nearby to fully appreciate this since the pages looked blank. Boris came from a nation where almost the entire population were spies. Their newspaper was published in invisible ink. "Fearless Leader not concerned with spikey rodents."

Dr. Robotnik takes note of the 'fearless leader' part. Hrm. So the stranger was a minion? He took orders from someone else? That could be useful. Aware that everyone in the tavern has been watching - even the coyote - Dr. Robotnik turns in his seat. He is looking directly at Boris but addresses the whole group. "Perhaps we could work out a deal..."

Boris peers over the blank newspaper, full of suspicion but also curious. "What kinda deal?"

"Well..." Dr. Ivo Robotnik shrugs, "What if we traded? You kill the spikey rodent. I kill the moose and squirrel."

There are some murmurs among the regulars. It's an idea that they've all had but never acted on.

"...You kill moose AND squirrel?" Boris remains suspicious - because that is a valued trait, where he's from. "I only gotta kill one spikey rodent? You sure?"

Dr. Robotnik thinks about this, drops some of his professional pride in the face of logic and then shrugs. "Why not? If it works then we all get what we want. If it doesn't work then we're not likely to be any worse off than we are right now." He turns to address the rest of the room. "I do have more than one enemy, though. So if anyone else wants to trade as well..."

There seem to be at least three others who are considering this offer seriously but they won't speak up right away. Two of them are busy arguing with each other and would rather make their arrangements with Dr. Robotnik in private. One of them won't speak at all - but he is carefully handpainting a wooden sign.

A group of heros might have agreed to all work together. Hence most evil genuises, even the struggling evil geniuses, tended to avoid that sort of behavior. Working together would have created the wrong impression. Evil geniuses wanted to be percieved as fearsome. They wanted respect. They wanted to SEEM like the kind of people who could do all the evil work themselves.

Witty sidekicks were a completely different matter, of course. It was acceptable for an evil genius to have a witty sidekick because the witty sidekicks often made good decoys. And having one or two minions - or perhaps an entire brainwashed army of loyal servants on standby - that was practically a job requirement. An evil genius might design weapons and machines and secret bases and so forth but they couldn't really be expected to do ALL the work. Being evil was a lot of work. Too much for any one creature, even a resourceful evil genius, to handle alone. The evil genius would have the vision and motivation, give the orders and take all the credit. But do all the work? No. Minions and witty sidekicks generally didn't mind doing the work. Minions and witty sidekicks didn't typically care about who took the credit. Evil geniuses did. That's why working together was simply not an option here.

But trading places for a while, why not? If you were the type of person who sincerely wanted to conquer the whole world someday then why bother to be picky about which part you conquered first?

Dr. Robotnik, despite years of failure and defeat, still clung to the deep-seated belief that someday he was going to rule the whole world. He was so confident in this belief that he was more openminded and relaxed than a lot of his peers. Most evil geniuses these days were total control freaks. Most villains would rather destroy the world than let anyone else help them conquer it. But Dr. Ivo Robotnik was a veteran in this profession. He had been trying to rule the world for a very long time. He had even helped to save the world on a few occasions, just so that he would continue to have the opportunity to try and rule it.

Veteran evil geniuses are an elite and elusive group but today, Dr. Robotnik was truly among peers.

"Hoo boy." Boris exclaims, a slow smile creeping across his features. "Maybe change of pace be bad for me." He considers himself to be a bad person and so things that are traditionally bad are, in a sense, good for him. That's how he uses the word. Boris is not actually the type to say 'good afternoon' unless he's wishing someone misfortune. Which happens often, come to think of it. "What your name?"

Names are a sensitive issue. Dr. Robotnik has gone through a few phases in his life and has been called other things. His most frequent enemies have given him many nicknames and there were times when - in an effort to stand out and distance himself from the reputations of his ancestors - he even used some of those nicknames to refer to himself. Pride of heritage has always drawn him back to his roots, though. "I am Dr. Ivo Robotnik, Evil Genius Extraordinaire."

"Oh yea? Robotnik? Why didn't you say that sooner?! Name like that, you coulda been my neighbor." Boris stands, removes his hat and bows. His attitude is much more respectful now. "Master Criminal, Boris Badenov at your service." He puts the hat back on and leans in conspiratorily. "Tell me more about spikey rodent."

The chaos emeralds, it must be pointed out, are accurately named. Also, they all have radically different ideas about what it takes to be a dwarf. And no one is ever sure of how many will come out to play.

**ooxoo**

**"W**hatcha dooooin'?"

Tails peers out from under the invention that he's been working on. Since he was laying on a skateboard on the floor to get to a certain part of the machine, this means that he is now looking directly up at the person who has just appeared in his workshop.

A slightly rectangular human girl with wide eyes and long dark hair looks down. She wears a white t-shirt under a pink dress with a purple belt. She has white socks, pink tennis shoes and a pink hair ribbon. Her hair ribbon is not flat, like a headband - it's a ribbon. The bow gives the impression of two small pink triangular ears that are set close together in the center of her head. She has a bright helpful smile and a tendency to lean in the direction of the person that she is speaking to. If there was a cuteness meter in the place then this girl would probably melt it by sheer force of personality. The girl is aware of this. She has in fact melted cuteness meters before, in other places.

Perhaps fortunately, the part of Tails brain which registers cuteness has not been fully activated. So once the initial surprise of being interrupted has worn off, he remembers that there is a place called the outside world and glances toward the doorway of the workshop, wondering if he forgot to lock it. "Ah, sorry." Tails hops to his feet and takes out his earplugs. "I didn't hear anyone come in. Uhm. How did you find...?"

The girl is probably around his age and close to his height. Despite her scientifically proven cuteness, she also gives the impression of someone who could A) land and repair a jet in an emergency, B) turn out to be a black belt in at least one martial art and C) is absolutely loyal to anyone that she decides is a friend. She blinks and scowls a bit. Her hair ribbon is part of this expression, the bow deflates. Isabella does not like her catchphrase question being ignored. However, she isn't going to turn down the chance to talk about her galactic-scale crush either. She returns to being cheerful and her hair ribbon perks up. The bow really does create the impression of ears. "Phineas built this new interdimensional gateway in his backyard and I thought-"

"...you KNOW someone who can build a interdimensional gateway? A WORKING interdimensional gateway?" Tails is astonished to contemplate that he might have a rival. Especially a rival in his own age bracket. Especially a rival in his own age bracket that he's never heard of before.

"Well, I helped a little." Isabella smiles. In some worlds there are girls who call themselves Scouts. Isabella is a troop leader in her worlds version of this club. She has earned more patches for Helping Thy Neighbor than anyone else in the clubs history. So of course, if a new patch were to be invented and called something like Helping Thy Interdimensional Neighbor... But they haven't, yet. Give it time. They've only just come up with the Visiting Thy Interdimensional Neighbor patch.

Some part of the kitsunes brain does now register the idea that if Amy, Cream and Cheese were ever all combined into a human form then Isabella would probably be the result. But most of his considerable brainpower is stuck on the idea of having a rival.

An interdimensional gateway opens in the workshop. The gateway is very shiny and so it is not possible for Tails to view the world on the other side but at least the sound carries clearly here.

"Oh, there you are Isabella." says a friendly voice. "Have you spent enough time in another dimension to earn that new badge?"

Isabella spends a moment with heart-shaped eyes but then recovers. "Patch." She corrects, "It's not a badge, it's a patch." She turns politely towards Tails and doesn't seem at all bothered to be speaking to a bright orange anthromorphic kitsune. Isabella is a friend and neighbor with the kind of geniuses who can build functional interdimensional gateways in their backyard just for something to do in the afternoon during summer holidays, after all. She has seen and lived through a wide range of inventions and adventures. Not much frightens her anymore. "Well, thanks. Gotta go."

She steps into the shiny gateway and returns home.

At the same time that she leaves, a blue and orange blur enters the workshop. If the gateway had not been so shiny then two chaos emeralds would have been visible for just a moment, drifting past each other. The accurately named jewels have not become independent living creatures. They have just decided to fuse with existing live creatures. Well. Most of them. But we'll get back to this concept later. Possibly _much_ later.

"What was that?" Isabella can be heard asking, having only seen the blur in passing.

The friendly voice in a different dimension explains. "Huh? Oh. When you left, that showed up here. So in order for you to come back, we had to send that back home as well." The friendly voice pauses thoughtfully and then directs the next remark towards the gateway. "Hey, if there's anyone listening over there - your world seems to have an excessive amount of interdimensional instability. You might want to check into that. Could be serious if it hits a critical mass. Okay? Bye!"

The shiny interdimensional gateway closes.

"..." Tails now has three things on his mind. First, his new potential rival sounds like a nice guy which was not quite what he'd expected from a rival. Second, the local world might be on the way to blowing up. And last but definitely not least...

Tails can not help but stare. There is now a very tall bird in the workshop. It's got a short orange beak with a perpetual grin, two long orange legs, a long thin neck and a lean body covered in short pale blue feathers. Longer feathers decorate the tail and stick up from the top of the head. The wings are a darker blue and do not seem large enough to support the creatures weight but it doesn't need to fly. The bird runs so quickly that it almost appears to teleport from one location to the next. It doesn't make a lot of noise as it pokes around, blinking often and inspecting everything with casual curiousity.

What Tails notices the most, however, are the shoes. The bird has large feet with two toes on each foot, plus a claw on the heel. So it doesn't wear shoes. It's never needed shoes. But right at this moment, it has a pair of them and someone has considerately buckled the shoes together in such a way that the bird can wear them like a necklace.

The shoes are red with a wide white stripe across the middle.

"... Sonic...?" Tails is just twelve on some level and considering the adventures that he has been through in the past, the concept of his best friend and adoptive elder brother suddenly being a different species is not too farfetched.

The Roadrunner blinks at the young kitsune and decides that while Tails is clearly not a coyote, he could be a species related to the coyote. The Roadrunner then notices the doorway to the outside world, leaps into the air, wiggles its toes, meeps and is gone. Among most mortals the appropriate phrase would be 'to hit the ground running' but for the Roadrunner the phrase became: 'why wait for the ground?'

A roadrunner-shaped hole was left in the workshop door by this speedy departure.

Tails hesitated. Sonic was known for being blue, fast and able to spin through obstacles but he didn't usually leave Sonic-shaped holes in things. Not that Tails could recall, anyway. Still. There were enough similarities for Tails to feel deeply concerned. And the shoes... How had the bird gotten those shoes? It had to be Sonic!

An internal struggle took place.

The young kitsunes first instinct is to run after his friend and try to find out what's going on. But his second - and stronger - instinct is to stay put and try to figure out what to build to solve this problem. Or was it a problem? The bird had been grinning. It hadn't seemed unhappy. Maybe Sonic liked being this new species?

What could have caused a sudden species change? Perhaps Sonic had run though some strong magical fields? Or maybe a bizarre explosion had caused the species change as a side effect? Hrm. Maybe there was no need to try and invent something to solve this problem. Perhaps there was no need to run or fly or drive after the blue bird. Maybe the magic or the side effect or whatever had happened... Maybe it was something that would wear off on its own.

In the meantime, there was a friendly sounding kid out there somewhere with a working interdimensional gateway and, oh yea, something about the world possibly being near critical mass. Which was hardly surprising. Things were always blowing up in this world.

Tails was age twelve and he'd already seen the world - as well as the universe, the distant past, the really distant future and other dimensions - endangered so many times that the concept of his own world being in danger _again_ is only mildly irritating. He dutifully adds 'check on the universe' to his list of things to do but the universe is ancient and seems to be able to take care if itself. Plus, as far as Tails knew, Sonic might be a different species but Sonic hadn't seemed worried and being a different species hadn't slowed him down. So if anything truly bad happened then it seemed reasonable to expect that they could still rely on their blue hero to save them. And Sonic seemed to enjoy the challenge of saving the world, so why not leave it to him?

What it came down to was that Tails regarded saving the world as kind of boring. It was a chore - just something that had to be done once in a while. He'd done it before and he could do it again if necessary but he'd rather be doing something else. Hence, for the kitsune, checking on the state of the universe currently ranks somewhere around inventing a phone that can survive Knuckles.

But a rival... A real rival... That's more interesting. Tails surveyed his cluttered workshop. He had a literal stack of amazing inventions and a huge project in progress but no working interdimensional gateway of his own. The mere idea that someone else had one... There is something that young boys and truly great inventors have in common: the desire to compete. Tails loved a good challenge.

Sonic was capable of building airplanes. Knuckles was capable of building nearly anything, as long as the kit came with step-by-step instructions. Shadow sometimes remembered how to put weapons together. Cream knew enough about flying to repair a jet. Even Amy Rose had a valid pilots license and could do some light mechanical work - though everyone knew she was better at cooking. Tails did respect his friends but when it came to mechanics, he regarded them as amatuers. He'd encountered a few other mechanical geniuses in his life. There had been a male humanoid walrus once, Rotor. And a female humanoid bird, Wave. Both of them had been purple, weird coincidence. They were gifted mechanics. Tails still kept in touch with them, they were part of his radio network. But no, Rotor and Wave just could not compete with him anymore. Dr. Robotnik did not even show up on the orange kitsunes internal radar. Neither did any of the robots who had ever escaped from Dr. Robotnik. Tails felt that not even other versions of himself - and he had met a few other versions of himself - could come close to what he could do now.

Good rivals were so hard to find.

Tails swished both of his tails and rubbed his hands together. In his head, he's already seeing the blueprints for an interdimensional gateway. _Mine will be cooler._

He turns and finds himself nose-to-kneecap with a tall bird that should not have been able to reappear behind him without him noticing - but it did. And before Tails can recover from having his train of thought derailed and utter the words "How is that even possible?", the Roadrunner gives a repeat performance of its previous departure. Now there are two roadrunner-shaped holes in the door.

"But..." Tails wants to protest the logic of this but there doesn't actually appear to be any logic involved so he doesn't know what to say. The young kitsune flattens his ears. Some loyal part of his brain still wants to go chase down his friend. However the more sensible part of his brain is now saying that maybe he should try to build a new front door for the workshop. A door that can't be run through. Quickly.

Too late.

The bird abruptly reappears, meeps extremely loudly and sends the startled young kitsune crashing into a bookcase. The bird grins and blinks but is wondering why the chase has not begun.

Maybe, decides the Roadrunner, it needs to slow down a little. So instead of just vanishing, the bird revs up. This involves hopping from one foot to the other until the long legs blur into an oval shape. Which has the effect of making it appear that the body of the bird is now sitting atop a single spinning orange wheel - as if riding a unicycle. And this is considered slow, for this bird. Cruising speed. The Roadrunner departs for the third and final time. The front door to the workshop now has three roadrunner-shaped holes in it and falls off its hinges.

Tails staggers out from under a pile of outdated technology manuals. A whistle blares. His fragmented trains of thought might soon have company. It sounded like there was an actual train coming. _But that doesn't make any sense!_ It's an underground workshop. Tails owns it. He built it. There couldn't be a train track down here. There had never been a train track down here. He'd certainly know, if there was a train track down here.

He trips on something. A train track. It hadn't been there a minute ago.

If only the poor kitsune had studied more lore.

**ooxoo**

**A** phone rings.

Moe, the bartender, glares at the phone. Then he sighs, puts down the glass that he was wiping clean just for appearances, frowns at a clock - the interdimensional mad scientist crowd has mostly departed already and the after-work crowd from the nuclear power plant hasn't arrived yet - and answers the phone. "Whaddya want?"

A pause.

"Yea? Okay. Hangon." Moe presses the phone to his shoulder and calls out to the few customers still in the building. "Listen up, is there an Anita Dayoff here? I'm looking for A. Dayoff..."

This is met with a few scattered chuckles and a mutter of "who isn't?"

Moe blinks, realizes what he has just said, grips the phone until his yellow hands turn a shade of white and changes the tone of his voice. He proceeds to say, in a threatening but hushed growl, a sentence that starts with: "I swear, if I ever get ahold of you..." and ends with the phone being slammed down.

Then he notices the top of someones head. Mostly because the hair is pale purple and there are a pair of pigtails sticking up. Moe leans on the counter and looks down. There's a short person. With freckles. And abnormally large eyes. Wearing, among other things, a pair of big round glasses. And a shiny colorful lab coat.

"But why would anyone call me here?" Says the vertically challenged lady. "And why would they call on YOUR phone?! I have my own phone!"

She locates her phone and holds it up, just to prove that she does have one.

The phone screen has the words: 5,307 missed calls.

She notices this message and sweatdrops. "Oh..."

"... Are you even old enough to BE here?" Moe ventured. He wasn't overly concerned about the law. He wouldn't have ever opened his tavern to interdimensional evil geniuses if he was concerned about the law. But Moe did sort of have a soft spot for kids - or at least the ones that didn't make prank phone calls. And he did also have the belief that women - even midgets - just generally didn't belong in bars unless someone was buying them a drink. "Why don't I call you a cab?"

Professor Anita Dayoff adopts the stance of someone who has just been insulted and who intends to do something violent to the person who has insulted her. Her lab coat, by the way, is just plain white. The reason it looks colorful and shiny is because she chooses to wear all the gym badges that she's earned on it. "Because I'm an adult, I can call my own cab if I need a cab. And by the way, I saw you serve a guy not much shorter than me earlier - notice that you didn't check his ID. Now who was it that called for me? And why did you hang up on them?"

**ooxoo**

**V**anilla stood transfixed. "... I must have dialed the wrong number..."

Cream was standing nearby and her hazel eyes showed disappointment but her voice remained polite. "It was a good idea, anyway. Thanks, Mom!" The rabbit child turned to Cheese and Ursatank. "We'll just have to go and ask everyone in town!" Cream announced and went skipping outdoors. The chao grinned and fluttered after her at shoulder height. The cowbear pokemon lingered for a moment longer before shrugging to itself and lumbering after them.

Eventually and with great care, Vanilla put down the phone as if it were a loaded weapon that had injured her. She stepped out from her office, closed the bakery, made a cup of tea in the kitchen and sat down. She took some deep breaths.

She was nearly six foot tall. She was a humanoid rabbit. She was a young adult and a single parent who worked hard. Vanilla worked hard because she wanted her daughter - her only child - to have all the things that she herself had never had. But... There was one important thing that Vanilla had grown up with that Cream didn't have.

Brothers.

Vanilla owned and ran her own business, so she had some experience at dealing with customers. Vanilla was kind and polite. Most of her customers were the same way. It was rare for people to be upset with her. The humble village bakery was a serene place: it was spotless, calm and well organized. Once or twice a week monks came down from the mountains to meditate here. The atmosphere was cozy and friendly and the entire building smelled like fresh baked bread. It was a slice of heaven on Earth and Vanilla had in fact contemplated calling her bakery that - slice of heaven - but it had ended up being called THE Bakery instead. Vanilla had always enjoyed cooking. Her food reflected that. She wasn't just making a living, she was thriving. Business was good. Vanilla had been interviewed for magazines and cookbooks, invited to do guest appearances on televised cooking shows and hired to teach an advanced class on cake decorating. She was well on her way to becoming a world famous gourmet pastry chef.

She had learned to cook this way because of her family.

Imagine being the only girl in a large family. Imagine being the youngest. There had been a lot of mouths to feed. Once you'd gotten into the habit of preparing meals for a group that size, it was hard to switch over to cooking for just one or two. Vanilla was no good at cooking for less than a mob. Opening her business had been a sensible way to deal with the extra food and also a long time aspiration. She'd always known that she would own a bakery someday. All the rabbit children had helped in the kitchen, some of her brothers had considered it a dull chore but Vanilla had loved every moment. Cooking was a practical survival skill. Cooking had made her feel useful. Cooking had helped her to meet new friends.

Vanilla should not have been a single parent. She'd been engaged. The wedding had been planned, all the arrangements had been made. The engraved invitations had been mailed - that's how close it had been to happening. Her fiance, her best friend, her almost-husband... So handsome and considerate. They'd been such a happy couple. It could have been such a beautiful marriage. But then her overprotective family... Her mischievous elder brothers... Had gotten together and traumatized her fiance to the point where he'd lost his mind and never been heard from again.

For this reason, Vanilla was not married. Nor was she on speaking terms with most of her relatives. She hadn't even introduced her child to them.

Having grown up around a large group of older brothers capable of inducing genuine insanity, Vanilla was not easily offended. But once she was... Well. The man on the phone had been very rude. As a parent - and like so many other doting parents - Vanilla felt dutybound to do something about this. She hated to imagine her dear sweet little daughter living on the same planet as such inconsiderate people.

Sonic had saved her life once and also the entire world, many times. Vanilla did appreciate being rescued but she would have let the blue hero drown, if she'd ever heard him say a bad word. Vanilla tolerated Creams taste in elite friends however, as a mom, she didn't completely approve of the warriors. Not even Cheese, who lived with the rabbits, had Vanillas full trust. Oh but Amy Rose was the odd one out, Vanilla DID approve of the pink hedgehog. She was glad for Cream to have at least one female friend. Heros or not, it would have been creepy and alarming if Cream had only hung out around boys. Plus Amy had shown an interest in cooking which was a redeeming trait, in Vanillas eyes. Still. As much as Vanilla approved of Creams best friend...

It was hard to trust other people when you didn't trust yourself.

Any creature brave enough to raise a child by themselves has to constantly struggle with their own self-esteem. The fact that Cream had helped to save the world - that was nice. Saving the world was important. But the fact that the world had needed to be saved... It made Vanilla feel as if she was a bad parent. So ever since Cream had started being a hero... Vanilla was trying harder to prove, if only to herself, that she was a good parent.

Maybe it was a mixed blessing, that so many of the heros were orphans.

No truly good parent wants to see or even imagine their child in - or anywhere near - danger. Why did Cream have to hang out with friends that did so much fighting? What if someone got hurt? Nobody under the age of ten should have to save the world, not ever. Because how was that supposed to make the adults feel? The parents, especially. How could a good parent be anything but worried? And how could anyone feel like they were being a good parent when the kids were the ones saving the world? Why hadn't anyone been able to protect the kids from such burdens? A whole world full of healthy and specially trained adults - the soldiers and police officers and paramedics and firefighters... But it was always the kids who were the heros. That was kind of disturbing.

Vanilla is an adult but she is a young adult. She could remember being a kid, it hadn't been THAT long ago. She'd had to survive living around all of her brothers - and her brothers were very memorable types - so that is most of what she remembers. Vanilla has had more than her share of strange childhood adventures but she'd never had to save the world, back when she was growing up. She would have remembered that. Why was the world endangered so often these days? Why did the kids have to fix the mistakes that had probably been caused by the adults? Why couldn't the adults fix their own mistakes? That would be more responsible.

She might have defensively - and sincerely - claimed that she only wanted the best for her child. That she didn't want for her daughter to have to inherit any problems from the older generations. That her sweet little princess deserved the chance to be normal. However... Vanilla came from a large family. And considering the various talents of her many brothers... To claim that Cream had the right to try and be normal would have required blatantly ignoring the fact that in many ways, Cream was already normal. For her species.

_Hrm._ Vanilla is a single parent. She is also a successful small business owner. She has connections, in other words. More than enough to trace a phone call and shut down anyone who has offended her. And that would be without even calling up any of her brothers. Not that Vanilla was on speaking terms with them. She hadn't even looked at the family photo album in eight years.

But she had kept a copy of the family photo album.

Vanilla finished her tea and went to her room. She pulled the photo album out from its hiding place. Or rather, she took the decorative lamp and oversized tablecloth off the album and used both hands to pull the cover open. It was not a small book. Because it was not a small family. The pages were heavy and the photos were autographed. Eight years... Vanilla felt a twinge of sadness. The grudge was older than her daughter.

Her brothers had shown remorse for turning her fiance into a lunatic and effectively cancelling the wedding but she hadn't been ready to accept their apologies, back then. Maybe it was time to let the family try to earn some forgiveness. They DID owe her. Being a single parent and a small business owner, she had a full schedule of responsibility. So she couldn't leave to seek revenge or punish offensive people by herself. Besides, Vanilla is peaceful and compassionate. She didn't like fighting. Violence was impolite and bad for business. Meanwhile her brothers... Well. Boys would be boys.

Think about this: Vanilla had parents. What kind of parents would name their only daughter Vanilla?

Probably the same kind of parents that would, once they ran out of ideas for other names, call one of their baby boys Rabbit. Right? However both of Vanillas parents had been rabbits and they'd reproduced accordingly. It had taken them many, many children to run out of boys names.

**ooxoo**

**H**ave we mentioned that Cream is polite? It's hard to overstate the importance of this trait. The girl was seven. Cream knew that she had relatives she'd never met - she had _no clue _how many - but her father was at the top of that list. Her grandparents - because her mother must also have parents, Cream knew - were in second place. Were these relatives alive or dead? Did they live nearby or far away? Were they perhaps upset with her mom for some reason or was it the other way around? Cream did not know and had never asked.

Asking her mother about these unintroduced relatives would have been a personal question and asking personal questions of adults was impolite. So Cream tried not to even think about it anymore. She had a mom that she loved and her mom worked hard - and that was more than a lot of people had. Cream was aware that some of her best friends didn't seem to have any parents at all. This made Cream feel deeply grateful to have even one parent. Asking questions about why she didn't have two parents might have made it seem as if she was ungrateful and Cream was not ungrateful. She loved her mom and trusted that maybe one day her mother would tell her about the rest of their family.

Besides, she had a lot of friends. When she wasn't working at the bakery or attending school, Cream played outside. In town. Because everyone in town knew her and there was always a chance to help someone and...

It was a busy town. In fact, it was called Busy Town. So, no surprise, Cream never had trouble keeping busy.

The population was mostly animals that dressed and behaved as if they were human, only more polite. Cream fit right in and in more ways than one. Rather a lot of the citizens were named after food.

"Hi Huckleberry!" Cream waved to a calico cat that was standing across the street.

"Hullo Cream! Hullo Cheese!" The cat waves back. He is wearing denim overalls and standing upright - and those are the only things about him which make him seem humanoid. "Have you seen Lowly Worm today? I can't imagine where he's gotten to."

"No, I'm so sorry." Cream replied. "Perhaps I can help you to look for him later. At the moment I'm searching for someone else. Please may I know, have you seen anyone named Anita Dayoff?"

"I don't think that I have." Huckleberry tilts his head. "What does an Anita Dayoff look like? And please tell me, what is that creature with the claws that is towering over you?"

Ursatank, it should be mentioned, tends to walk on all fours. But he can also walk upright. On just his hoofs. Which makes the small crescent of white fur on his chest more easily visible.

"Oh this is my new friend, Krackers." Cream introduces the cowbear with a straight face and doesn't even think that his name is strange. "He's lost. Anita Dayoff is a human friend of his and that is why we're looking for her."

The calico cat thinks about this for a moment. There IS a human family that lives in Busy Town but their last name is Scarry. They were perfectly nice people - the father wrote childrens books - yet the animals tended to favor caution and so stayed away from the humans. "Where is your friend from?" Huckleberry asks, "Maybe his friend went to their home? That would be a good place to check, wouldn't it?"

Cream turns expectantly to Ursatank and waits for his reply, which she understands. "Indigo Plateau? I've never heard of that place before."

"You could take the bus." suggests Huckleberry. "The buses go nearly everywhere these days."

Cream hesitates. She has had adventures traveling through time, space and other dimensions but she has always disliked the idea of leaving her town. Although... Sometimes you had to leave home, to protect home.

Being polite meant wanting other people to be happy. Cream sincerely cared about what other creatures felt and thought. She wouldn't have felt compelled to be polite if she didn't have that trait. She really and truly cared about helping Ursatank find his friend. She had promised and she always kept her promises. If going to another town accomplished that goal then it was worth the trip. But... There was something else. Quite a lot of something else. The rabbit child was smart and sensitive, in her own way. Cream didn't always have a lot on her mind but she had a lot on her heart.

She was worried about her mother, who had never reacted to a wrong number quite like that. She was worried about Amy Rose, who had called earlier to vent. She was worried about Sonic because Amy was always so worried about him. Cream was, on some level, worried about everyone. Even Dr. Robotnik. When Cream worried like this about everyone else, it made it easier for Cream to ignore the fact that she had no idea who her father was and didn't currently feel like it was any of her business to ask because she didn't want to upset her mother by asking. Why dwell on her own troubles when there were so many others who might need help? That's what being polite was. The ability to always put others first. Being polite was hard work, sometimes. It was not popular or even practical, sometimes. But Cream was determined to stick with it.

Her brain was saying that it was absolutely unthinkable to leave town. She needed to stay. She needed to be indoors before dark. She needed to clean her room - even though it was already clean. She needed to eat dinner and do her chores and go to bed. She needed to remain at home where it was safe and comfortable. She needed to go to school and help her mom with the bakery tomorrow and then, if there was any spare time, go practice her flying with Cheese. She was just a little kid. She shouldn't have to worry about saving the world. Cream didn't like violence, anyway and saving the world always tended to require committing violence. That's what her brain was thinking.

But her heart was saying that if Amy was worried then Amy would act. And if Amy was just worried then that was okay because it was normal for girls to worry about the people that they had galactic-scale crushes on. But if Amy was _right_... Because Amy could be right about these sorts of things, sometimes... Then Sonic might be in trouble. And if Sonic was in trouble then that was probably not good news for the whole world.

What was more impolite? Leaving home suddenly for a roadtrip with a brand new friend? Or failing to check and see if the world might need to be saved?

Cream was seven years old. She loved her mom. She did not like violence at all but if she had to fight to defend her mom... If she had to help save the world so that her mother would have a place to live... But that was thinking ahead. That was something that might never need to happen again. Hopefully the world wasn't endangered again, already. Hrm. How to be sure? How to find Sonic and see if he was okay? How to find Anita Dayoff so that Krackers could be reunited with his friend? Maybe there was a way to do both.

The buses did go nearly everywhere, these days.

Huckleberry made some polite excuses to go and search through all the fruit in the grocery store for his worm friend, adding. "That's his favorite place to hide. I probably just missed him the first time I checked." A scream from the general direction of the grocery store soon confirmed this. Cream bowed, wished the cat good luck and thanked him for his help. Polite farewells were exchanged and ways were hastily parted.

Cream went home for long enough to notice that her mother was baking a special carrot cake. Vanilla only made this cake when expecting guests. Cream did not sneak because that wasn't polite. Instead she hugged her mom, got her moms permission to go on a roadtrip, reluctantly explained that saving the world might be necessary and packed a few practical items into a cute whimsical backpack. This only took about ten minutes and during these ten minutes, Cream had to step between Cheese and Krackers at least thirty times to break up near-fights. She was too polite to yell at them and she felt that yelling at them would be like giving them encouragement to misbehave, so instead she chose to politely ignore them while keeping the peace and returning outdoors. Cream skipped to a bus stop with two grumpy monsters in tow.

The bus that pulled up was a red doubledecker. That was not unusual. The fact that the bus had pulled up so promptly, as if it had just been waiting for someone to arrive at the bus stop - that was not too unusual either. But the bus driver had been replaced with the British Governments top secret agent - and that WAS a little bit unusual.

**ooxoo**

**"B**ond. James Bond." Says a human in a white tuxedo but only because someone is watching a movie that is being rerun on television.

Click. The channel changes. "Go-go Gadget..." Shouts a humanoid robot with a British accent.

Inspector Gadget was considered old technology and had been retired for centuries. Mr. Bond was popular for the movies but all the REAL secret agents knew that double-oh-seven was just a decoy. The man often saved the world by flirting and hanging out in casinos while things exploded, for goodness sake. What kind of REAL secret agent...

Oh. Wait a minute.

Click. "I'm going rouge!" Chuckles a lady in a political commercial on the television. She gives the camera a cheerful thumbs-up. And then the podium in front of her explodes.

"Mr. President!" A door is flung open and several frustrated security people pour into the office. "It happened again!"

A professional photographer enters the room with a camera, takes a photo of this memorable moment, prints it, frames it and hangs it up on the wall right behind the Presidents desk. With this done, the photographer leaves. So now the President is sitting at his desk directly in front of a framed photo of the same scene.

The world government - apparently Britain has become a separate entity - was having a bit of a problem. One of their best agents was bound and determined to murder the political lady. Humans were perfectly capable of being secret agents but in a world full of dangerous robots and powerful humanoid animals and unstable magical fields... The very best agents were not human. A human would have been too easy to capture and negotiate with.

Agent Rouge was a nineteen year old humanoid white bat. She could run. She could fly. She could drive. Even without a vehicle, she had good speed. She had fighting skills and was not afraid to defend herself. She had a certain amount of feminine charm and was not afraid to use that to her advantage either. The government could send out tanks and cars, motorcycles and and hovercycles, airplanes and helicopters... They wouldn't be able to catch her.

Once in a rare while, a crime was committed that was so impressive... That the government would arrest the criminal and then, later, hire them. Because sometimes you needed a skilled criminal on your side just to catch other criminals. That's how Rouge had gotten this job. She was a secret agent merely because the government wanted to have her on their side and wanted to keep her busy. She tended to rob jewelry stores when she got bored. Rouge was barely old enough to be in a casino but they'd let her open one of her own - complete with an arcade and a popular nightclub - just so that maybe she wouldn't be tempted to steal quite as often.

Allowing the casino also gave the government a way to contact her. They couldn't catch Rouge in a chase but they didn't need to chase her. They knew her home address.

Fifteen frantic minutes and one arrest later, the scowling bat was escorted at multiple gun and taser point into the presidential office. She moved like a lounge singer and dressed like a ninja - but a ninja who had to wear their skintight dark jumpsuits with an open back, for the wings and a low neckline, just because. She refused to wear anything that covered her head and had white elbow-length gloves. Her outfit included knee-tall high-heel boots and this is worth mentioning only because most of Rouges best attacks involved kicking. The agents escorting her were covered in brusies and bootmarks. Some of the unlucky ones were not here, they were in hospitals and looked as if they'd been in a vicious knife fight. Rouge kept her high-heels sharpened. The chest of her dark outfit and the toes of her white boots were armored. Perhaps ironically, the armor was done in the shape of a pink heart.

Normally, assaulting other agents and attempting to murder a political candidate would have been grounds for dismissal and severe punishment. However... Rouge had helped save the world in the past, so that gained her some leeway. And the government was terrified of her, that gave her some extra leeway. And aside from being a skilled and valuable secret agent... She was the governments only reliable connection to one of the most dangerous creatures alive.

And also to Shadow, of course.

Shadow was a complete and total headache, as far as the world government was concerned. Because they still didn't fully understand his existence. He wasn't a robot and he wasn't a non-robot but he was maybe somewhere inbetween. With a sprinkling of alien DNA, for good measure. The dark hedgehog couldn't remember his own name on a regular basis but he knew how to operate just about any kind of military weapon or transport that he could get his hands on. It was as if his brain - or what was left of it - had been the backup copy for a military database at some point.

Disturbing was a polite understatement. Especially if you read the whole file from the beginning. Shadow hadn't even been intended to be a weapon, originally. He'd been designed for medical tests. Despite the informative battles that they'd endured, the government was at a loss to comprehend this. If you were going to build something in order to try and save a little girl - a human - with a terminal illness... Then why a hedgehog? Why a male hedgehog, especially? If the doctors had been planning to give the little girl with the terminal illness any kind of transplant from the animal then wouldn't the parts from a female animal have been more compatible? Had that been the plan? And if that HAD been the plan then why also design a male hedgehog _with_ the ability to run away at near lightspeed AND the ability to harness chaos emeralds for power? Shadow had evidently been given BOTH of those skills even before being converted into a weapon. It just boggled the mind.

And why name him Shadow? Whose shadow was he? He'd existed more than fifty years before Sonic. He'd been built by humans living on a large peaceful space station. Had they even known about Sonics ancestors? Or was the name a reference to something else entirely? Was he the shadow of the people that had built him? The shadow of the little girl? The shadow of the aliens that had donated their DNA? There was undoubtedly some kind of symbolism tied up in that name. And given the fact that Shadow had been built by a brilliant but twisted genius, it was doubtful that the governments current understanding of the dark hedgehog even scratched the surface of the implied symbolism.

It had taken several years and half a dozen battles for the government to gather what scant information they now had on the so-called ultimate lifeform. Wars, alien invasions and the violent destruction of the entire spacestation where Shadow had been created had made the data difficult to find. But at least they'd learned a little. A few theories had been tested and eliminated, over the course of the adventures.

There were still a ton of unanswered questions.

Rouge had read the entire government file. More than once. She'd studied it. She'd also done her own research. Poor Shadow could not be an expert on himself. Even if he'd had perfect recall - and he didn't - Shadow couldn't have been the expert on himself. There was a fifty year gap in his head from when he'd been kept in suspended animation and more gaps from before that because he didn't remember all the details of his own creation. Shadow had technically been alive for more than half a century but it hadn't been much of a life. The dark hedgehog had clear memories of precisely one tragic event that had taken about ten minutes, maybe less, to happen right in front of him. And _that_ was on his good days. Hence Rouge had taken pity on him and become the expert. She now felt that she knew more about the history of Shadow than even Dr. Robotnik, whose grandfather had built Shadow.

History tended to be just speculation, after all. Rouge had made some educated guesses.

She was not a totally unkind creature but she was not merely doing this out of the goodness of her heart. Rouge respected the dark hedgehog - on his good days - but mainly, she had an excellent mind for business. Rouge had recognized that it would be useful, to be the one that Shadow had to come to for answers. She'd read his file so frequently that she nearly understood it. She had come up with her own theories. She'd tried to explain her most recent theory to Shadow. That had proven to be a mistake. Rouge was not yet aware of how drastic a mistake.

What Rouge was currently aware of were the following things: First, she probably wasn't going to be fired or imprisoned. Second, she definitely wasn't going to tolerate some cheerful political lady turning the phrase 'going rouge' into a campaign slogan.

After some uncomfortable staring contests with rather a lot of silent disapproval directed at the bat, a report comes in. The political lady is in the hospital but still alive and expected to recover. The President can't feel too much relief. The political lady is after his job. And the job is stressful. On days like this, the President would be happy to retire but that's not up to him.

A high ranking human soldier marched into the room, saluted and placed a file on the presidential desk. The President had been expecting this and pushed the file towards Rouge. "We've got a new mission for you. It pays well."

"Why, Mr. President." Rouge bats - as only a bat can - her short wings and long eyelashes as she accepts the file. She enjoys watching her boss squirm because it reassures her that she is in control of this situation. "As if I'm only after the reward." She says sweetly in the precise tone of someone who is only after the reward. With just a hint of someone who will physically rip the arms off anyone else trying to get to the reward before her.

The General speaks up. "We believe that at least three other organizations may already have their own top agents on the case. Please try not to kill them."

"And please hurry. The existence of the world may unfortunately be depending on you." Finishes the President. "Good luck, Agent Rouge."

Rouge smiles benevolently and is careful to keep her mouth closed while she does this. She is not a vampire but she does have the right kind of teeth for it and that tends to frighten people - which isn't always bad but isn't what she's going for right now. Rouge is an accomplished thief and secret agent. She is the only nineteen year old anywhere that legally owns a casino. It always sort of amuses her when anyone wishes her good luck. And it doesn't really faze her to be told that the world might be relying on her because that's happened a few times before - and she's always pulled through.

"Well, now." Rouge strikes a series of confident flirty poses on her way out the door. "Guess I'll go find out what all the fuss is about, then." She exits but leans back into the room after a moment to add, in deadly serious tones. "Don't forget my reward."

**ooxoo**

**A**my Rose was the type to act. But she was, her elite friends sometimes forgot, the most abnormal one. So Amys idea of acting did not always involve rushing off in a panic because of a vague hunch. No, her idea of acting was sometimes as simple as going to drama club.

It hadn't taken long, to pick up a few new outfits en route.

Amy had changed her clothes. She was currently wearing a black headband, black tights, black and white shoes and a new dress. This drew some attention from her city-dwelling classmates. There was a general feeling of approval on all but one thing: the color. The dress was cobalt blue. It was a color that looked good on Amy but yes, it was also a color that she liked because it did remind her of someone that she had a galactic-scale crush on.

"When are you gonna dump that loser?" sneered a young girl.

Amy folded her arms and scowled. She wasn't even really dating Sonic yet and her girlfriends already hated him. "He is not a loser!"

"Never seen him in school." Remarks another critical girl.

"Amy! This is the same guy that you just about killed yourself for, right?" Persists the sneering girl, "And he didn't notice?"

"Well, I..." Amy stutters. Because she is the most abnormal one. So yes, she had intended to change Sonic. He was the one who needed the fashion advice. But instead... Because Sonic was so difficult to catch up to... Amy had changed herself. She was thirteen. Amy enjoyed cooking but she was not overweight. Yet she frequently went on diets because she thought that maybe Sonic would notice her more if she did this. Or maybe the weight loss would make her a little faster and she'd finally catch up to him. She also trained and sometimes wore weighted bracelets and... Intensive training had made Amy stronger. Boys were apparently frightened of strong girls. So her quest to catch up to Sonic had not been helped much by the training either.

"And what have you done to your bangs?!" The sneering girl continues.

Currently Amy Rose had one bang. She used to have three bangs. She'd cut two of them off. She'd nearly cut all of them off. Because Sonic didn't have bangs. Was that the secret to his speed? Would Sonic maybe like a girl more if she didn't have bangs? To the people who had to live around Amy, this sort of logic seemed crazy. Amy had dieted and trained to the point of needing to be hospitalized. More than once. Her parents had finally taken away the exercise equipment and had signed their daughter up for counseling. The counselor had recommended joining drama club. The world media called Sonic a hero on a regular basis but Amys friends, parents and occasional medics were now stuck in the awkward position of collectively saying: 'So what if he saves the world? Don't hurt yourself just trying to get to know him.'

"It's not worth it, Amy Rose!" The disgruntled classmates recite in unison.

And the drama club teacher patiently ends this discussion by saying: "wa-wa-wa-wah." Or maybe that's just how these children hear it. They are teenagers, after all.

Up on the stage is a miracle. A small white piano. A toy piano. A mini baby grand. There aren't that many keys on it. There's not even a place to put any sheets of music. No pedals. No professional piano bench. The false instrument sits so low to the ground that the person playing it must also sit on the ground. Most of the kids - even the other musicians - can't get the piano to sound like anything worth listening to. But the person who owns this piano... Is a new student to this school. A boy with yellow hair. He wears flat shoes, dark pants and a purple shirt with thin black stripes. And he's the miracle. Because he didn't need the pedals or the sheet music or even the full range of octaves. When he sat down at this piano and bent over the keys, he could play with his eyes closed and still make it sound like a classical master had entered the room.

His family had moved to the city to be closer to the orchestra. The boy was bound to end up working there someday. The orchestra had already sent him an actual grand piano for a housewarming present but he still carried this small one around in a case.

The room went quiet in anticipation when he stepped onto the stage. He sat down at the piano. The boy played a few intensely dramatic bars of Beethoven and missed a note. He paused, frowned and started over without saying anything or opening his eyes but missed the same note again. His frown deepened. He sat up, opened his eyes and looked at the captive audience. He wasn't quite accustomed to attending a school with so many animals in it. There had only been one or two animals that had attended school, back where he came from.

Then his attention is drawn to a certain new blue dress down in the crowd. And the outfit reminds him of someone, too. The dress has short sleeves, a wide flare at the base and a bow tied in the back. And the girl wearing this dress...was a pink hedgehog. So the dress also had an open back because she would probably grow more quills one day. But her expression... And her stance... Yes, that might work.

"Excuse me?" The boy spoke softly and pointed to the blue dress. "Would you mind coming up here?"

"Uh..." Amy Rose is not actually accustomed to being the center of attention. Especially not attention from boys. Extra especially not from human boys. She begins to make a polite excuse to leave the room but turns and finds several of her scowling classmates standing right behind her. They pick her up and throw her on to the stage. "HEY!"

"You're the one always telling us to be nice to the new kid!" whispers the critical girl.

"And you deserve better than that blue blockhead." hisses the sneering girl.

"Sonic is NOT a blockhead." Amy whispers back at them, almost reaching for the worlds most destructive mallet - but the entire drama club is watching. Including the teacher.

"You have an air of unrequited love around you." Says the boy with yellow hair who is sitting in front of the mini baby grand. "Would you mind putting your elbow right there?" He points to a shallow groove that has been worn into the top of the piano.

"Uh..." Amy Rose is baffled. "Why?"

"Love is a reoccurring theme in all forms of art. Unrequited love accounts for the inspiration of more than half the music that exists." The boy explains matter-of-factly. "If you'd be so kind as to have a seat and just lean against the piano? There you go, thank you. Now... Feel free to talk about whatever aspect of life is frustrating you because I probably won't hear it over the music but I'll nod sympathetically once in a while or change the music to match the mood that you're projecting. And by the end of the song, you'll feel better."

Amy is sitting on the floor with her back to the small piano and feeling confused but confused IS better than worried, at least. She stretches out and crosses her legs. She turns and peers down into the piano. There are no strings.

Schroeder tests a few keys, nods and then returns to playing intensely dramatic movements composed by Beethoven. This time, he does not miss a note. He finishes a movement and sits up again. The mini baby grand hasn't sounded this good since arriving in the city. "Not bad. You're hired."

Amy Rose blinks at him. "... You're kidding, right?"

"No. I have a concert this evening. You should come lean on the piano." Schroeder insists, "I'll pay you in music lessons and concert tickets. Unless you'd prefer money?" The way he speaks these words make it clear that he offers the option of money last because in his mind, it is the least valuable.

"I've heard of page-turners for musicians... " Amy ventures. She is too weirded out to know what to really say and with intensely dramatic classical music now stuck replaying in her head, is not even able to think clearly about Sonic between every other thought. "But piano-leaners...? That's an actual job...?"

"Yes." Schroeder says, without bothering to clarify that piano-leaner and lounge singer are different titles for the same job. "Oh but remember to talk about your feelings next time. It's important. You'd be amazed. The audience pays so much more attention to the music if someone is talking."

_...huh. So instead of paying to have a counselor listen to me... I can get paid to lean on the piano and talk? It's music therapy?_ Thinks Amy Rose.

And then she wonders how her parents are going to react to the news that she has been hired - and by a boy that she barely knows - to work at a concert. She doesn't have to wonder for very long. Amy knows her parents well enough to imagine them sobbing in joy. Her parents did love her but they would honestly almost prefer for Amy to be kidnapped by evil geniuses than for her to hang out with Sonic anymore. Her mom and dad... Deep down, Amy knew that her family was sick of hearing about Sonic. The same went for her friends. And her teachers. And her classmates. The people that Amy dealt with everyday and also Cream, who was seven years old and too polite to be very direct about this... The people who cared about Amy, realized Amy, were always trying to get her to take up new hobbies or meet new people or find a new job. So... Why not give it a chance?

But old habits died hard and galactic-scale crushes might not be capable of dying at all, thus there was also no shortage of brain cells thinking: _Maybe Sonic will like me more, if I get a job. And maybe..._

She had always loved Sonic enough to want to tell the whole world. She had, in the past, frequentally and extensively spoken on the subject to basically anyone who would listen. Including Sonic himself. But he'd never stayed in one place for very long, when she was around and there hadn't always been much chance to talk during battles. So he'd never heard the full story. Was Amy Rose going to have to go up on a stage and lean on a piano and literally tell the whole world about her feelings just to maybe get his attention? Would Sonic finally get the message?

It seemed worth a try.

Decision made, Amy Rose faced her new boss. "Where is this concert going to be at?"

Outside a small yellow bird flys into the city. Upsidedown.

**ooxoo**

**W**orld ending, yadda yadda ya... Rouge flipped through her mission information file. The first time ever that someone had told her that the world was ending, she had been concerned. Anymore... Meh. When you owned a casino, you learned a few things about people and their ability to exaggerate. Humans were so morbid, sometimes. Most humans wanted to either conquer the world or save the world, that's what it seemed like. So they invented reasons to justify their goals. Well. Okay. Maybe not MOST humans but... Even at the casino, humans had goals. They wanted to win big and so they made up excuses to convince themselves that the next bet would be the lucky one.

It was mostly just humans who came to gamble. Robots sometimes came in, calculated their odds, placed a few bets, collected their modest winnings and left. Despite this, Rouge liked robots. They made good employees. Robots were great at math. Gambling was all about math. So even though the robots could have been hired for any position... Rouge liked to hire them for certain important jobs, such as being the card dealers in high-stake poker games.

The casino didn't have many exits. That was normal, for casinos. They also didn't have any clocks on the wall or calendars hanging up. What they had was a bright maze of noisy machines with flashing lights set against distracting yet stylish carpet and wallpaper patterns. It was a place where people were _meant_ to get lost. But Rouge walked through the place with the authority of an owner. Since she was the owner.

James Bond was nothing special. Rouge knew because she had met him once. The man was just a decoy and his part had already been played by at least four different actors. Not to mention the small fleet of stunt doubles. Double-oh-seven was only given the kind of jobs that could be filmed for movies and he didn't even do his own stunts. All of his missions seemed to involve loitering in casinos and flirting with people while things exploded. Against Rouge a battle of flirting skills might have ended in a draw - we may never know - but Rouge didn't just loiter in a casino, she OWNED the casino. And if she was near an explosion at all then she had probably contributed to causing the explosion. And she'd never needed a stunt double.

But she did need some choice business associates.

Owning and running a business is a full time job. Rouge already had two other full time jobs plus one illegal hobby. The casino was a nice place to live and profitable to own but she didn't always manage it. Shadow... Was worth keeping track of but hardly management material. Rouge had thought about offering the work to Knuckles but he was clearly devoted to staying on the floating island. So, she'd found someone else.

A patch of wallpaper shifted. Someone was blending in.

Mecha might be employee of the month forever, as far as managing the poker tables went but there was nothing quite like having a humanoid chameleon for a chief security guard. And a ninja chameleon... Really, it was a small wonder that the government hadn't hired HIM to be a secret agent. Actually... The chameleon was such a skilled ninja that the government probably couldn't have found him even if they'd wanted to.

Oh and having Vector to DJ the nightclub was great, too. And Charmy ruled the arcade.

She'd met them while on her way to steal the Master Emerald once. They had stopped her before she'd even gotten to the area of the shrine. Rouge had been so impressed that she'd offered to hire them. It hadn't taken much persuasion. Vector and Charmy were both very outgoing types, living in isolation had not suited them. Espio had welcomed the opportunity to further practice and develop his ninjitsu. All of them had needed the money. Their private detective agency had never been overly profitable - largely because Vector, the eldest, had declared himself in charge and had done a lot of charity work. He was such a softheart, for a crocodile.

If Charmy had been in charge then the detective agency would have still been penniless. The kid would have spent any money that they made on the kind of trashy prizes that could usually be found in gumball machines or at the bottom of a cereal box. But if Espio had been in charge, the detective agency would have probably been converted into a martial arts dojo. And it would have made money.

Boys were so funny. Rouge was nineteen and full of curves. Boys got nervous around her. Rouge knew they did. Shadow, when he was coherant, more or less acted irritated by her presence but he didn't run off. Sonic did run off but not always right away. Knuckles sometimes turned a different shade of red - unless Rouge happened to be stealing one of the jewels that he felt honorbound to defend. Despite their differences, the heros had all stood by her side in battle at least once. They'd all taken turns at saving her life and - especially in Shadows case - Rouge had been able to return the favor.

Vector, who was twenty-one, might throw himself off a cliff if she asked nicely. Charmy was not even old enough to be legally working full time and he was already in love with another humanoid bee - but he fainted if Rouge teased him. Rouge had no interest in the kid but flirting was second nature for her so it just happened, sometimes.

Espio was eighteen and one of the most dangerous creatures alive.

Sometimes, it was fun to mess with people but sometimes Rouge adored the fact that robots could look at her without mentally falling to pieces. It was nice to be treated like an equal instead of just oogled all the time. And Espio... Was fairly close to being a robot, as far as she could tell. Because it was hard to read his expression when he was blending in. Once in a while, though, she would notice a patch of wallpaper blushing. Not often. He was serious about the ninjitsu.

Rouge admired serious dedication. Her kickboxing had noticably improved since Espio had become head of security at the casino. She kept hoping to have a casual conversation with him about fighting techniques someday. But she was always so busy... Being a secret agent was a full time job. Keeping track of Shadow - because if you didn't keep track of him, he'd probably forget you and then you'd have to start over - was a second full time job. At least the casino was in capable hands, when she needed a break. She hardly had time to steal jewelry anymore.

Here's a touch of irony: Rouge loved jewelry but she didn't wear any. Not a single bracelet or anklet. Not a necklace or earrings. Not even a wristwatch.

Not even a ring.

Plenty of boys got nervous around Rouge. She kept wondering when someone would get brave. She wasn't exactly waiting for a proposal. She wasn't sure that she'd accept any kind of proposal. Ever. Rouge liked boys, there was no question of that. She was nineteen. She'd had - and had also gradually grown out of - a wide range of crushes during her life. Despite this, she'd never gone much beyond flirting. Rouge didn't hate the idea of romance but she had other ambitions and goals for herself. She was a working girl. With all the jobs that she held... The work filled her schedule and often required travel. Rouge doubted that she could make time in her life for a serious romantic relationship. Besides, relationships weren't practical in her line of work. Not any of them. Secret agent, thief, casino owner - Rouge was all of the above. She had to be careful about who she trusted with intimate secrets. Anyone that she dated was likely to be in danger at some point. Enemies would always target loved ones. Rouge was aware of this because she'd seen it happen to others. Hence Rouge was honestly not too interested in love. She just wanted to be given the jewelry.

Diamonds were forever - but not if the world ended. Drat.

Rouge had a small apartment located in the back of the casino. This was home. Nothing fancy. The hallway just outside the apartment still had bloodstains and rips in the carpet from the last government raid but the inside had not been touched by conflict. Rouges apartment didn't have a kitchen because she could eat at the club downstairs. She didn't have a television for the same reason - she could watch it downstairs. She had a computer but only because her job had provided her with one. She had a couch, it was the guest bed. She had a sturdy hook hanging down from the ceiling, that was her bed.

The echidna could fly. He didn't even have wings. How was that fair? And the rabbit girl and the fox boy - they flew. No wings. Even the hedgehogs - the males, anyway - if given enough chaos emeralds, they could fly for a while. No wings. Sometimes Rouge just wanted to kick them all. They could go home, curl up under a blanket and not end up injuring themselves in the process. Probably. Rouge was a bat. She had wings and she had to be careful of them. She couldn't sleep under heavy blankets. She couldn't sleep in a regular bed - it wasn't comfortable for her. And if she happened to toss or turn in her sleep... She had tried this before. Rouge had slept on the couch once, just to see what it was like. She had nearly lost a wing. And she wasn't the sort of creature that could fly without wings.

The whole apartment was clean and stylish but sparse and plain. This was deliberate. Rouge hated clutter. She kept the place clean and sparse so that she wouldn't accidentally knock anything over with her wings. And keeping the place very plain made it seem dull. The apartment was a good place to rest. Oh and the police usually only took once glance around before leaving.

So the police had never noticed the exceptionally well hidden walk-in closet that was, on the inside, solid floor-to-ceiling jewels.

Every busy lady needs a space where she can spend a few minutes by herself. Lately Rouge had taken to meditating. She went to her happy place.

When she eventually returned to the outside world, Rouge felt ready to take on anything. Not so much because saving the world was good for business at the casino and part of her job as a secret agent anyway but because saving the world meant earning a reward. And rewards usually translated to new jewelry.

The chameleon was cute and all but nothing compared to her love of precious rocks.

Rouge picked up the mission file again. It was still like reading a deranged science fiction novel. _Who comes up with this stuff?_

Then she notices that Shadow isn't here. Which wasn't a big deal. The dark hedgehog did sometimes recover consciousness for long enough to go for a walk or head down to the cafe and get something to eat. Shadow even gambled once in a while - and Rouge had agreed to fund this on the basis that at least it meant that she knew where he was - but mostly, he just watched other people gamble. He frequently picked fights with Mecha and the other robot employees. It was extra handy to have the former detectives around the casino with Shadow in residence. Breaking up these kinds of fights usually took a group effort, even when Rouge was home. The dark hedgehog swore that the robots were cheating at the card games. It was a tad strange that a creature who didn't even remember his own personal history would know anything about the rules of poker. But Shadows middle name could have been strange. If he'd had a middle name. Nothing about Shadow was very certain but he didn't seem to have a middle name. To date, no one had found any record of a middle name.

Anyway. Shadow was not the type to leave notes when he went out. And with his speed, if he'd been gone for five minutes then he could be on a different continent.

Or in a different time.

Rouge is nineteen, a secret agent, a jewel collector and the owner of a casino. She has a good mind for business and a fair amount of intuition for disaster. She doesn't often resort to swearing - because she understands that she is more likely to get her way by speaking sweetly and flirting - but she certainly knows a few creative phrases and is currently thinking most of them. The censored version would be: _That stubborn idiot! Just because of one argument...?! Would he actually warp time just to...?_

She glances down at the mission file. It might as well have been labeled: the world is ending and by the way, this is all your fault.

_Oh wonderful..._ Rouge growls.

Chaos Control was, for Shadow, the ability to bend space and time by focusing his power through a chaos emerald. Sometimes, he didn't even need a chaos emerald. And so the problem with Shadow, his persistant amnesia and occasional violent temper aside, was not just speed. Catching him might require a time machine.

That shortens the list of people to ask for help.

In the back of the mission information folder, there are three profiles. These are the other agents who may already be on the case. None of them are human. Rouge raises an eyebrow as she glances through the pages. She doesn't recognize any of these agents and is not impressed. _Not likely to be any help._ Rouge decides. But fate could prove her wrong.

Ooooo... says the laws of nature, I like that name. Call me Fate from now on.

Rouge does not hear this. She and Fate would agree on one important thing, though: the phrase 'Chaos Control' was an oxymoron. The term was made of two words that clearly did not belong together. And not even Shadow, the alleged ultimate lifeform, could truly control the chaos - he was just a part of it. Which meant that he might not have ended up where he wanted to go. And using the Chaos Control often seemed to make his brain damage worse because - and this very important to understand - Shadow didn't just warp space and time, he could get warped by it. So he might have forgotten where he was trying to go, once he actually arrived somewhere. If he'd even arrived intact. So finding Shadow - or whatever might be left of him - could actually require both a time machine AND an interdimensional gateway.

And there's only one creature in this world who is capable of building both.

_Fox boy._ Rouge tucks the file away into a safe part of her costume, steps out an apartment window, stands on the air, pauses to absorb the glory of the glittering cityscape and sighs. Being humanoid, she could live on any schedule but being a bat, she loved the night time best. And she loved the city because of this view. The lights... When the sun set... And the stars came out... It was like looking at a world full of sparkly gems. It was, to Rouges mind, heaven.

She hated to leave home - she had so much to do here - but Rouge could tell already that this mission was going to involve a lot of traveling. She was capable of running and flying but she wanted to conserve her energy. She was capable of driving and had a pilots license as well but didn't have much luck keeping vehicles around. Shadow had stolen and lost her motorcycle. Vector had crashed her airplane. Mecha had blown up, repaired and then fallen in love with her last car. Long story. Don't ask.

What was a girl to do? Where could she find a vehicle fit for a secret agent on such short notice?

Rouge happened to glance down.

There was a sleek car parked on the side of the building. The car was pitch black and glossy with dangerous curves that captured and reflected the twinkling lights of the sky, the casino and the city. It was a masterpiece of art that sparkled like a polished gem. It was basically a high-tech jewel on wheels. And it had come here of its own free will.

"Well, now, that's more like it!" Rouge decides that any vehicle parked on her building is, by default, hers. She also suspects that maybe the vehicle is a down payment on the reward she's been promised for accepting the mission. She glides down and smoothly enters the most awesome professional race car in the multiverse through an open window.

After all, says Fate, who better to drive the Batmobile than a bat?

Somewhere, in another dimension, the Dark Knight was going to need a heart transplant.

**ooxoo**

**T**he library was beautiful. No, you don't understand. It was gorgeous.

Knuckles had escaped from the care of the football team and, after wandering around lost for a while, had located the college library.

If told that the world was ending, of course he would believe it. The world had tried ending before and there had been plenty of close calls, even in his lifetime. Knuckles was aware of this. He'd studied history and had, more recently, participated in various historic battles in order to prevent the world from ending. His friends still teased him because he'd been tricked. Yea. Right. What were you supposed to do when you were told that the world was ending? Sit around and wait for more evidence? What if you GOT more evidence? What if the world ended and you were sitting there doing nothing when it happened, even though you'd been warned? How stupid would you feel then? It wasn't worth the risk... Okay. So Dr. Eggman - or whatever the old man was calling himself these days - had lied. Repeatedly. But even liars needed a planet to live on, right? Even creatures who were traditionally enemies could work together when it came to saving the world. Knuckles had BEEN an enemy to Sonic in the past. And they had worked together to save the world, anyway. That's why Knuckles didn't really care who came along and told him that the world was ending. The messenger was not as important as the message, when the end of the world was the news. That was his opinion on the subject.

Therefore convincing Knuckles that the world is ending - that would be easy. That had never been hard. But convincing Knuckles that he is not an echidna... That was a bit more personal. That was going to be a smidge more difficult.

Oh child, sighs Fate while rolling back imaginary sleeves, Just you remember that I have _tried_ to be nice about this.

The trouble with being the last surviving member of a species was, frankly, being the last surviving member of a species. Because being the last surviving member of a species made it hard to know who ask, when you had questions about your personal heritage. There was a library on the floating island. But it was - tada - a library on the floating island. The island was a magnet for weird and dangerous events. The library on the island was underground. The bookshelves were okay because they were all carved into the stone but every time the island moved, the books and scrolls went tumbling across the room... And there had been battles, all over the island... And Knuckles didn't have fingers.

Books and scrolls were delicate items. Even moreso when they were ancient and faded. Some of them had flat out disintegrated from age and constant movement. Others had been lost due to battles. The library being underground had translated to the library being damp, so mold had destroyed more than a few precious volumes. And Knuckles had tried his best to handle all the surviving documents with care but more than half of the collection looked like they'd been attacked by a two hole punch. That was the private library on the floating island. The ruins were dark, damp and a mess most of the time. It would be a mess right now because the island had done that sharp flip at a ninety degree angle and Knuckles hadn't had the chance to go clean up his underground home afterwards. Even the murals on the walls there were faded and chipped and the artwork had been abstract to begin with.

Everything that Knuckles knows about echidnas and their history came from studying those murals and books and scrolls. He didn't remember much about his parents. He'd met other versions of himself, in other times and places but... Did that count? Given the condition of the island library... The collection could not begin to answer all his questions. He had a rough idea of what had happened to the echidna culture but not so much about what they'd been like on an everyday basis. And so, being a true historian, he'd always sort of made educated guesses when it came to filling in the gaps.

History was often just speculation and opinion, after all.

Which meant that nearly everything that Knuckles knew about echidnas was something that he'd basically made up. Which meant that really, as far as he knew... It wasn't impossible but... He just hated to think that... What if all the echidna truly WERE extinct? What if he'd just studied the echidna so much that he had _tricked himself_ into believing that he was one?

If Knuckles was an echidna then he was right about his identity but he was alone. If he was not an echidna then he'd been living a lie and attempting to preserve someone elses dead culture. Either way, the truth - if he could gather enough information to figure it out - was not going to be fun.

At least the college library was beautiful. It was above ground. It had windows and natural daylight. It had columns and carpet and sculptures. The bookshelves were lined up neatly in the middle of the room instead of being carved into the walls. The whole place is tidy and occupied by a reverant silence. There are tables and chairs, places to sit and study. This was what a library was supposed to be. A public place where information was kept safe. A place where everyone felt safe. A place where people came for answers.

Even the answers that they didn't truly want to have to look for.

The humanoid echidna tribes had not been well documented by other cultures. There were many reasons for this and Knuckles knew about them. The echidna ancestors had lived on the large floating island. They had harnessed the power of The Master Emerald - how was not exactly clear - and had used the rock as a weapon against their enemies. So aside from being isolated and challenging to track, they had been somewhat hostile. Few cultures had gone out of their way to meet the echidna and of the cultures who had met them, still fewer had survived. An elemental monster and a series of wars had gradually eradicated the species. Except for Knuckles. If he was an echidna.

Why should only one have survived?

Knuckles is seventeen. The scrolls and books and murals on the floating island are ancient. The Master Emerald and the floating island itself were ancient. The shrines and ruins... You get the idea. And seventeen is not ancient, to most creatures. So what did this mean? Was Knuckles not an echidna? Or was he an echidna who had been flung into the future by the ancient tribe? Or was there just a significant gap in the documented history of the entire echidna culture, had they only actually gone mostly extinct about seventeen years ago? Or were there others that were still out there? Or what if Knuckles had actually been sent from the future? Or built by humans? Or aliens?

How could he even begin to look for these kinds of answers in a college library?

Much to his own mixed surprise and disappointment, Knuckles does locate a book on the subject of echidnas. Unfortunately, it's one of the books that he wrote. Fortunately - or maybe not, stay tuned - right next to his book, there is a huge book that is kind of hard to ignore.

The Encyclopedia Mythica, Volume E. College Edition.

My goodness, how convenient. says Fate. Why, you could probably even say that finding this particular rare and unusual book is - cough, hint, cough - fated.

"Huh..." With one arm in a cast, getting this book down from the shelf is not a simple chore. Knuckles, unaware of the fact that Fate is legitimately conspiring against him, manages anyway. The Encyclopedia is too heavy to hold one-handed so he lets the book crash to the floor and sits down next to it to see what it is about.

Right up front there is an article about echidna, the animal. It's informative but not overly helpful. Echidna are egg laying mammals who share a prehistoric ancestor with the platypus. They have quills on their back like a hedgehog yet are classed into the rodent family as a species of spiney anteater. They have sharp claws and good noses for digging up bugs.

What is a seventeen year old male warrior supposed to think about the concepts of being hatched from an egg and eating bugs? _Uh..._

Oh but Knuckles is having a bad day, in case you haven't noticed. He's already been hit by a car and broken an arm and been stared at by several thousand people and been quasi-adopted by a college football team - so why buck the trend?

This is, after all, the Encyclopedia Mythica. Volume E. College Edition.

The article continues: Contrary to modern opinion the echidna is not, in fact, named after a type of mexican food. Instead the entire species of animal gets its name from the infamous but obscure greek monster that...

Knuckles makes the absolutely terrible mistake of turning the page to read the rest of the article. He has the chance to notice that the rest of the article appears to be the rest of Volume E. The entire heavy book is about the exploits of this one monster. Being the college edition, there is even a centerfold. It is not an abstract piece of art. The mythical greek Echidna does not look anything like the species of wild animal that got named after her, by the way. In fact, she is surrounded by a cloud of icy bubbles...

**ooxoo**


	5. 3:1

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**3:1**

**A** cloud of icy bubbles surrounded a shape, shrouding it from clear view. A rather humanoid shape. Well, the upper half was humanoid. Most pokemon did not even appear to have gender anymore. The Echidna definitely had gender.

Imagine a cute little girl. She gets a cute little pokemon for her birthday. She hugs the animal every single day. At least ten times. She grows up with the pokemon and still hugs it. So... When science begins collecting DNA samples from trained pokemon because all the wild pokemon were extinct... Yes, it was extremely illegal to use human DNA to build new pokemon - but sometimes it happened by accident. Early DNA collecting had gathered the tissue samples not from blood or bone but from skin. Pokemon skin came into contact with any trainer that hugged it, any opponent that tackled it, etc. The result was that sometimes the genetic sample was contaminated with traces of other DNA. Hence a new pokemon that was veering towards being too human could be declared illegal and rejected before it had even been finished. Echidna had still been under construction when she'd been seized.

And of all the rejected creatures that The New Species Testing Facility could have kept... They'd destroyed several others. Not the Echidna. Being geeky scientists, the staff had looked up the proper term and - since ideas can travel freely across such boundaries - they'd found it. The monster was half human and half dratini but naming her Hutini or Draman hadn't seemed right. Naming her Wicked-Mutation-of-Tikal-fused-with-Chaos or Not-Exactly-A-Metarex hadn't seemed quite right either. No one in this dimension was entirely certain where_ those _ideas had come from, anyway. Echidna was at least mythologically correct.

She had a fragile existence. Her destruction could be approved at any moment, there was a standing League order that said so - it was signed in triplicate. The only reason she had been permitted to live was because... Well. Echidna was adapting. The League was fascinated. The scientists were studying this.

From a safe distance.

Somewhere in another dimension, echidna were regarded as being Earth elementals. Echidna wasn't. League scientists had expected her to be a flying and maybe fire type. She wasn't. The icy bubbles swirled into a dark cloud. Snow began to fall. Naming the new pokemon after a myth had, it seemed, influenced the creature to start to become that myth. Whoops. Maybe not a bright idea. Echidna had a fierce reputation to live up to.

"SIAN!" Vulpersian HATED snow and especially THIS snow. The firefox dodged around an elephant and ran for cover. Other creatures were doing the same. Even the elephants retreated.

Where the snow fell, it melted. Each pretty little snowflake crackled and burned and gave off a foul smell. The wind picked up and the snow fell more densly, blanketing the land in a choking freezing fog.

This was Toxic Blizzard.

Echidna could use water and ice and even some of the ground and air attacks - but she was a poison type. She had the potential to be amazingly dangerous. She wasn't. Yet. She'd been seized while still under construction. She was adapting, though.

If she'd been alive in this dimension a hundred years ago, she might have been classed as a legendary pokemon. If she'd been alive more than hundred years ago and in another dimension, the ancient greeks would have sacrificed fish and cattle to her. Or anything else that she wanted.

The thing about history - with the emphasis on the 'story' - is that rather a lot of opinion becomes taught as fact. If two countries go to war then, when it comes to writing down the history, both of them can claim to have won. Even if neither of them truly did. That sort of event happens all the time. Truth is stranger than fiction and fiction is very very strange. His-story, her-story, their-story... It was all just a story, when you got right down to the philosophical nitty gritty. The ancient greeks had been an imaginative bunch. As a culture, they'd been quite talented at getting down to the philosophical nitty gritty. They'd had a lot of stories to tell and a whole pantheon brimming with divine heros and quasi-divine monsters to keep track of - and _they_ had felt that the Echidna was important. However when their stories had traveled and had been retold... Opinions had changed. Hence the Echidna had frequently been overlooked. Go figure. Echidna was no longer the best known of the ancient greek monsters but she had been regarded as truly fearsome, once. And old ideas tend to get recycled, so maybe she would be regarded as truly fearsome again someday.

Right here, right now - she wasn't.

Times had changed. Ideas had traveled and been forgotten. No one really believed in legendary pokemon or ancient greek monsters anymore. Not even if they saw one. And not many had seen her. The swirling clouds and shrouded shapes gave the impression that Echidna might be a lovely pokemon to look at. She wasn't. The name Echidna roughly translated to 'She Viper' but in this dimension, she's half dragon. Dratini had viper-like qualities and mythical traits of its own but dragon-sized teeth do not fit well into a human-sized mouth. Was it any wonder that the monster tended to be grumpy? If the scientists had been able to see her clearly more often then the League would have ordered her destruction ages ago.

Vulpersian had been working on it daily since arriving at the facility. With a bark and a roar, a wall of flame struggled to meet and cancel the poisoness snowstorm.

A herd of assorted elephants currently shared this goal. Being large, they had all been hit by the Toxic Blizzard and were starting to suffer the effects. Other pokemon had taken cover from the snow by hiding under the elephants. Now those pokemon fled from their hiding places. Some of the elephants were starting to stagger. This did not prevent them from attacking. Together.

Some of the elephants had fur and some had fins. Some wore large shells on their backs or had extra horns protruding from their heads. Some of them had long tusks and some of them had ears large enough to be wingspans. Ear shape and wing shape and tail design and tusk design and trunk length varied from species to species. The Phan series covered every type. There were electric elephants and grass elephants and water and fire and fighting and... Eveything but a ghost elephant. Nothing that could have been called legendary, either. But the Phan series - even the animals who had flower shaped ears or lightbulb shaped appendages at the end of their tails or spikes across their backs or large buck teeth - they all had a basic elephant shape.

Because if you're going to clean up the environment, you had to be able to get humans to give up their cars. Having the trains and buses and boats had all helped. The bikes and scooters and skateboards and gliders had all helped. But the most popular solution, the most profitable solution, the most practical solution for replacing the cars... Had been designing pokemon who could carry passengers.

The majority of the current trainers in the pokemon world only had one pokemon and it was the one that they used to replace their car.

All of the Phan series could be ridden. The elephant-loving genetics company had been wildly successful because of this. However there was another genetic company in this world that had done even better. A series of pokemon that was larger than even the Phan collection.

**ooxoo**

**S**onic had found a use for the flaming rocket shoes. They made a great campfire. He'd kicked the shoes into a heap and placed a circle of rocks around them. He was taking a nap on the ground while waiting for the shoes to go out again.

A medium sized herd of small brightly colored ponies watched this from a distance. Some of them had wings and some of them had horns and most of them had at least three colors in their manes - but all of them had body art. Small designs had been painted down their noses or around their ankles or, most commonly, on one of their back hips. They were exactly the kind of ponies that looked as if they should be able to say things like: "Gosh Rainbow Sunset, isn't it a lovely day? We should eat ice cream."

But they were pokemon.

So some of them had hoofs and some of them had claws and some of them had antlers. They had manes of fire, manes of ice, manes of flowers or manes of clouds. They had bodies of stone or fish scales or dragon scales or snakeskin or long fur or short fur. Their wings were not always feathered. Their teeth were not always blunt. And a few of them had the kind of tails that horses probably shouldn't have. More than one of them was pink.

And more than one of them ran over to helpfully stomp the fire out.

Which woke Sonic up.

There was a long moment of fairly bewildered staring, from both sides. The ponies had never seen anything quite like the weird blue humanish animal and Sonic, for his part, had never before thought of the term 'horsepower' as being girlie.

"cle...?" Said a small pink unicorn with a highly unnatural tail and a mane that does, in fact, appear to be nothing but downturned quills. She has a single curly bang and green eyes and someone has tattooed the design of a red mallet encircled by tiny blue hearts onto her back left hip. "cle...pony?"

A cloud of dust is the reply. Sonic does not usually run away at top speed while barefoot but reflex had overcome everything else. He'd been wondering about a better way to get around but riding a horse was NOT an option that he wanted to contemplate. Especially not one of THESE.

The ponies huddle and consult each other.

"Gosh Rainbow Sunset, that weird blue animal just left some perfectly good shoes here. Do you think he meant to do that?"

Rainbow Sunset is pitch black and the leader of the herd. She has glowing red eyes, curved white antlers, a flaming mane and tail. She resembles the type of horse that should perhaps trot across the sky right before the world ends - but she's just a pokemon. Rainbow Sunset inspects the mildly trampled rocket shoes and does some simple math. There are only two shoes. All the land horses have four feet. All the sea horses have better fashion sense. "No." She replies, "We should chase that weird blue animal and give his shoes back to him. He might need them and we don't."

"I think I may have accidentally frightened him away." observes the small pink clepony - but clepony is just her species name. Humans don't even get a chance to name these animals. The ponies have named each other. "I should apologize. Then we can all be friends and go eat ice cream."

"That's a good plan, Lovestruck."

If any humans had been standing nearby - or if Sonic had not been out of earshot - then they would have overheard this entire conversation as: cle...? cle...pony? Ta, ta, ta... Radoom. Doom. DOOM. Raaaa. Cle, clepo. Pocle. Cleeee. Ice cream. Raaaaa.

Sonic was already several miles ahead. The ponies did not seem concerned by this. Ponyta and its evolution, Rapidash, had gifted ALL their genetically created descendents with two traits: the best sprinting groundspeed of the non-legendary pokemon _and_ the ability to launch complicated attacks WHILE running.

The herd takes off in formation. They were pretty sure that they could slow the weird blue animal down. Because natural genetic gifts aside, they'd had special training.

**ooxoo**

**O**nce upon a time, more than hundred years ago...

"Officer Jenny? We have to take away your car and all your other motorized vehicles. Sorry. We're just trying to cut expenses. Oh, and also save the environment. You can have a bicycle, though."

A tall human woman with blue hair looks concerned. She is wearing the uniform of a police officer and has a large family that, quite honestly, defies physics. There is an Officer Jenny in residence at every single town, city, village and suburban sprawl on the planet. Maybe this family was the result of a strange natural phenomenom of epic proportions or maybe the lady has just been cloned a few million times. The officers are truly all identical - the women all look, act and sound exactly the same. They will all make the same argument. "Sir? How can I arrest someone if I'm on a bicycle? And what if I have to arrest more than one person? What about public safety? I need my car, for public safety."

Her bosses reluctantly agree that this is a valid point and go away for a couple decades. The police fleet now accounts for more than two-thirds of the total vehicles in this world. The environment struggles. Eventually a scientist has a bright idea. A genetic company builds a new product and makes their sales pitch. The government decides to try again.

"Officer Jenny? We have to take away your car and all your other motorized vehicles. Sorry. We're just trying to cut expenses. Oh, and also save the environment. You can have an elephant, though."

"Sir? Do you mean the elephant that just ran through the wall? It might be kind of hard to keep the criminals in jail, if the elephant is going to run though the wall."

Her bosses are forced to agree that this is a valid point and leave. A rival genetic company has an even brighter idea, rushes to build a new product and makes their sales pitch before the end of the year. The government listens and feels that this new approach is worth a try.

"Officer Jenny? We have to..."

But by then Officer Jenny had already thrown her car, motorcycle and helicopter keys at her boss and ridden away. Giggling like an estatic schoolgirl and seated on the back of a small colorful pony.

You had to know your customers.

The elephants had become the Phan series. They were especially popular among the military, the League scientists and other businesses. Meanwhile the ponies had effortlessly replaced the entire global fleet of police vehicles. The land horses were based off Ponyta and Rapidash. The sea horses were based off Horsea and its evolutions. However for a while the series of horses had been affectionately known, all together, as the Jennies. Since that's who they'd been built for. Job satisfaction among police officers had quadrupled. The environment had been stabilized. Crime rates had gone down - but crime still existed.

**ooxoo**

**A**ll around the planet, quite a lot of phones were ringing. Only one of those phones had a ringtone that recited poetry.

_Prepare for trouble, make it double._

"Ack... Stupid phone..." grumbles Professor Anita Dayoff as she clicks around her phone screen. She doesn't use her phone very much - unless she's throwing it at someone - so she has sort of forgotten how to use it properly.

_To protect the world from devestation. To unite all peoples within our nation._

"No! Go back! The other screen!"

_To denounce the evils of truth and love..._

"AHA!" Professor Anita Dayoff has not figured how to answer her phone. She has figured out how to remove the battery from her phone. Which does stop the ringing. And also instantly erases just over five thousand messages. "..."

The phone is thrown into a convenient lake. A bored wild pokemon throws it back.

"Ouchie..." Anita returns to her feet and rubs the side of her head. "Why you..." She dusts herself off and spends a while shaking her fist threateningly in the direction of the convenient lake.

Some criminals were good with technology. Not Anita. She was older than she looked and MUCH older than she would ever act. She'd grown up without all of this technology. She hadn't become the best investigative League Historian by relying on technology. No! She'd gotten the job by being ridiculously persistant. Oh, and also by strategically defeating nearly every Gym on the planet. And having a large family was an advantage, too. Anita could go anywhere in the world and have a relative to stay with. Heck, she even had relatives in other worlds.

Right now, she even has a pokemon running around in a different world. Anita was not aware of this. This situation had not been planned. But if asked about it - and her other two pokemon HAD asked about it - Anita would act as if it had been planned. She was that type of person.

The definition of the word 'lost' is, in laymans terms: you put something down and have no clue where to look for it. After all if you knew where to look for the misplaced item then it wouldn't be lost, would it?

_Krackers..._ Anita did miss her lost pokemon but she didn't want to admit that she'd lost him. Not even to herself. Because she didn't know where she had lost him and so she wasn't sure what she could do to find him. She had also never really meant to name him after his favorite brand of treat. That had just sort of happened. When you trained a pokemon, you had to reward them. So her praise had gradually gone from 'Good job! Have a Kracker(tm)!' to 'Good job, Krackers!' more or less unintentionally.

It might help at this time to point out that Ursatank did not believe that his trainer was a criminal. Or an evil genius. And her other two pokemon - who had also been unintentionally named after their favorite treats - shared this skepticism. For good reason.

Various criminal organizations existed in the world. There had always been gangs and brotherhoods and cults and scouts and so forth. However most of the major criminal organizations recorded in the history of the pokemon world had called themselves teams. Team Magma had wanted to expand the land but had then realized that they would still need water to live and had given up. Team Aqua had wanted to expand the ocean but had not actually wanted to live underwater all of the time and so they'd given up. Team Shadow had recently had the unholy crud kicked out of them by a certain mysterious League Champion with a borrowed elephant. But Team Rocket had stood the test of time. Sort of.

No matter how many times Team Rocket was shut down, it always resurfaced eventually. The uniforms changed. The location of the headquarters changed. The people in the group changed. Yet the basic principles had stayed the same. Because there was always someone in the world wanting to steal rare and/or strong pokemon. Always someone who wanted to make a profit illegally. That's what their trademarked poem should have said.

Professor Dayoff had joined the organization for other reasons. More personal ones. Being in Team Rocket was, you could say, a family tradition. And she had a large family.

The League knew that she was a criminal. Despite this and also despite the fact that her pokemon were feared in Gyms around the world, Anita herself was not viewed as dangerous. She worked for both sides of the law. On the days that she didn't have off, at any rate. Her family really did take up a lot of her time.

Her family was able to send her messages without using a phone or any other technology. Anita can't miss their calls.

There was an urgent incoming message from the family. It said: A herd of colorful ponies have run off on their own! The police are not going to be able to prevent much crime until they can recapture their horses. This is the glorious opportunity that we've all been waiting for! Mwuhahaha! Get to work!

"But..." Anita sulks, "It was my day off..."

**ooxoo**

**S**onic was, without being aware of this, running from the law.

Hello, says Fate. Remember me? Used to be called the laws of nature? Seem to be narrating this disaster? Yea? Okay. Please, keep reading. I'm just here to watch.

Sonic is not aware of the narrator. He is aware of the fact that he should not be running this fast barefoot. He is aware of the fact that the ponies have him outnumbered and are closing the gap. He is able to dodge the bursts of flame, swirl of scented flower petals, waves of water, bolts of lightning, rain of fish and most other attacks - but the ponies don't seem to be aiming AT him. They're aiming IN FRONT of him.

_They're a herd and I'm being herded... If I turn around..._

Turning around and being closer to these horses is not a plan that appeals to him. Nor does the idea of attacking. Sonic had a wide range of attacks - but most of them only worked at close range. All the breakdance moves that he'd converted into a martial art... Sonic could use those but he really doesn't know if kicking an elemental horse is wise. The horses might just kick back. And they have more feet. And he doesn't want to get that close to them, anyway. There was ONE attack that he could do at high speed and any range but... No. Sonic doesn't mind destroying robots but he's not about to spin through a living thing. He was capable of it but that was an absolute last resort and an attack that he'd always regretted discovering.

The very best warriors, in any dimension, are the ones that would prefer to avoid being in a fight.

As long as there was space to run, Sonic would resist attacking. He'd attacked other creatures earlier - but that was different. He'd been trying to help Vulpersian. He would fight more readily when defending others. Others were more easily threatened. Sonic could not really feel threatened by the ponies, as long as he had space to run. But he wasn't keen about stopping. The ponies made him nervous. Especially that pink unicorn with the quills. However his own feet were now attempting to kill him. That's roughly how it felt. Sonic had a high threshold for pain. He could run without doing damage to most of his body - but most of his body did not have to make contact with the ground at this speed, that was just his feet. And he cared too much about his feet to let things get worse. He was going to have to stop.

A meteor strikes nearby.

It's kind of hard to stop running when things like that happen.

Sonic does not usually run away screaming and flailing his arms - because neither of those actions will make him feel better or run faster - but he's starting to be tempted to do it anyway since such actions might take his mind off the pain. _No. There has to be a place to hide. I can wait for the herd to pass and then take off after they're gone and find a healer_... With this plan in mind, Sonic slows down. He needs to be able to see the landscape as more than a blur. He begins looking for a tree that he can climb. Although some of the ponies have wings, so hiding in a tree is not likely to work. Actually... Sonic notices... Hiding anywhere is not likely to work because he is currently leaving a trail. Even at mere cruising speed, he's flattening tall grass. And there's not a lot of blood in the trail but... Humans probably wouldn't notice. Robots would have to scan for it in order to notice. But animals would be able to smell it. And the ponies were animals.

How was he supposed to escape?

A flash of movement crosses Sonics path, intercepts him and vanishes with him.

The ponies come to stomping halt.

"Gosh, Rainbow Sunset, that weird blue animal teleported. I guess he didn't want his shoes back."

"So..." Says another random colorful pony, "that means he was LITTERING!"

There is a gasp of horror from the herd. Environmental crimes are serious offenses.

Rainbow Sunset snuffles the air and then looks at her peers. "He won't escape! Anyone else still smell him?"

The pink unicorn, Lovestruck, steps up and sniffs the air. "Hey. You're right! He must not have teleported very far!"

Rainbow Sunset is, in pokemon terms, a radoom. A blend of Rapidash and Houndoom. A horse and a doberman, basically. She has an excellent sense of smell and she's been trained by the police on how to track creatures by scent. "This way!"

The chase resumes.

And now, says Fate, for quite possibly the most traumatized character in this story. And it's not even Knuckles! A drumroll, if you please...

It's a humanoid hedgehog. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO THE FUTURE?!"

Shadow had black fur and was built by humans more than fifty years ago. Silver had metallic gray-white fur and is from two hundred years in the future. Sonic is stuck in the middle and blue. He was also not thrilled. At the moment, though, Sonic is just glad to be away from the ponies and very glad to be around someone that he can have an intelligent conversation with. Hopefully.

What should you say to someone from the future? What could you tell them that they didn't already know? Sonic wasn't comfortable with the idea of being ancient history, in Silvers world. And what if Silver was... Well. Yea. Sonic wasn't planning to be a parent, ever. He'd raised Tails. The kitsune was awesome but being a parent - even just an adoptive one - was not fun, not as far as Sonic was concerned. So... Silver really shouldn't be a relative to Sonic but Silver was almost definitely a relative to someone that Sonic knew, at any rate. And this is what bugged Sonic about the kid: Silver was psychic.

Shadow had a wide variety of skills, yes. Mind reading was not one of those skills. It might have been hilariously ironic to have Shadow, the ultimate amnesiac, be related to a mind reader but... No. Shadow was an artifical lifeform or an alien lifeform or something like that. He'd been built by humans. It was doubtful that Shadow could have kids and even more doubtful that he'd ever want to have kids. Shadow considered himself a living weapon. Living weapons did not have kids. Amy Rose, on the other hand... Was thirteen and - especially around Sonic - she had talked about marriage and motherhood quite often. Granted, Amy wasn't a full-fledged psychic but she _was_ very observant and...

Yea. Making the connection did not take a huge leap of imagination. Sonic suspected that he might be talking to one of Amys futuristic descendants. He tried to be nice to Silver anyway but had to avoid eye contact.

He was momentarily tempted to ask about the average lifespan of a humanoid hedgehog. Anyone living in a future should know that, right? They'd have all the data from the past generations. Even if they didn't have all the data in the future, Silver was psychic. He should be able to find out. But asking about lifespan seemed kind of morbid. Also, Sonic did not want to be told _exactly_ the age that he was going to die at.

"WOULD YOU PAY ATTENTION?" Normally Silver was far more relaxed and would not be the sort to shout but today he's extremely traumatized. This speaks volumes, given the average quality of the brains that Silver has read without losing his composure or his sanity. But right now, he has something extra on his mind. Physically on his head, in fact. Perched among his drooping super long quills. "THE UNIVERSES ARE FUSING AND...

Sonic looks up from caring for his feet for long enough to notice the creature sitting on Silvers head. "What's that?"

It's a tiny purple furball with feathers sticking out of its jeweled forehead. The fact that it has a fluffy tail which is permenantly on fire, ears larger than its body and an intense angry glare that has been registered as a lethal weapon only seems to make it even more adorable. And oh by the way it's not just any shade of purple, no. This creature is a shade of ultra neon glow-in-the-dark purple that nature never intended. "nida...kitty...chic." Hisses the tiny glaring furball.

Somewhere, in an alternate dimension, a cuteness meter blows up.

"... nevermind." Sonic decides and goes back to caring for his feet. "Look on the bright side -" Sonic ventures after a while, trying to revert to his natural mental state of optimism. " - if _you're_ here then at least there IS a future."

Silence.

"...?" Sonic looks up and then looks around. Silver has vanished without a trace and so has the adorable purple furball. "...or maybe I spoke too soon..."

More silence.

"Coulda at least left me some shoes..." Sonic grumbles.

Even more silence.

"I'm gonna kill Shadow." Sonic mutters but this is just something to say in a frustrated tone. Probably not something that he really means. Sonic has always threatened to kill things when upset but he hasn't actually killed that many things. His main enemies are robots and his best friend is a mechanical genius - do the math. Even most of the robots get rebuilt. Sonic preferred to save lives, not end them.

Although if Shadow was even remotely responsible for this mess - and that did seem to be the case, at the moment - then Sonic resolved that he might have to consider changing his policy. He was getting fed up with being dragged, directly or indirectly, into weird battles and alternate dimensions because of Shadow.

If Silver was gone... Did that really mean the whole future...? Or just Amy Rose?

Sonic had always rescued her. He didn't like Amy but he didn't hate Amy and so he'd always rescued her. Even before he had met Silver, he'd rescued her. Even if he HAD hated the girl, he probably still would have rescued her. Because Sonic rescued everyone. Even Dr. Robotnik, on a few occasions. Amy could be annoying but most teenage girls were, in Sonics opinion. She was not a bad creature though and she did not deserve to have any serious harm come to her. Or to her possible descendants. Not if Sonic could prevent it.

What kind of heroic hedgehog would he be, if he didn't even help a member of his own species?

A herd of colorful ponies chose this moment to swiftly arrive and surround him.

"DOOM." Announces Rainbow Sunset ominously, stepping forward to place this weird blue litterbug under arrest.

"Ice cream." Adds the small pink unicorn named Lovestruck.

Sonic blinks. "... ice cream?"

The ponies sweatdrop, huddle and consult each other.

"Gosh Rainbow Sunset, does that weird blue animal actually understand us?"

All pokemon shared a common language but these horses had their own dialect. Not even other pokemon understood them on a regular basis.

"I don't know. Maybe he's just hungry?" Rainbow Sunset scowls. "Or maybe this is a trick... He's under arrest! We can't take a criminal out for ice cream. He must be planning to escape and he must think we're stupid!"

Lovestruck is one of the few ponies in the entire herd that has the courage to stand up to their fearless leader. "But what if giving him ice cream makes him turn into a good person? And look, his feet are hurt. And the shoes that he abandoned were on fire, remember? Maybe the littering wasn't intentional. Perhaps he just needs medical attention and fashion advice. Maybe giving him ice cream would make him feel better. Then we could all be friends."

Sonic has now heard the term 'ice cream' thrice more. He doesn't understand the rest of the conversation. It is all horse noises and variations on 'taaaa', 'raaaDOOM' and 'cleeepony!' to his ears. But ice cream...? Why would a horse even say that?! Then his stomach makes some noises of its own. Sonic begins to think about the last time he ate something. It's been a while. His favorite foods are hot dogs and chili dogs. However being an interdimensional warrior, Sonic knew that when traveling then you couldn't be too picky. You had to make do. You had to be willing to eat what you could find. Ice cream was not his favorite food but it probably beat a lot of the possible alternatives.

No point in saving the world on an empty stomach.

"Actually, now that you mention it, I could eat a horse." Sonic realizes belatedly that this may not have been the best remark to make in present company and tries to recover. "But I wouldn't! I mean, really - who eats a horse?! I don't even know why they have that saying! Or bunny slippers! Errr..."

Rainbow Sunset frowns down at the weird blue animal with slightly mangled feet who is now rambling anxiously. Once someone is labeled as a criminal in her mind, even if their only crimes were bad fashion sense and littering... "Hmf. I don't trust him."

"Did that weird animal just say that he could eat a horse?" says a random colorful pony, backing away.

"And what are bunny slippers?" asks another nervous random colorful pony.

The pink unicorn knows her peers. The herd is getting spooked. If she doesn't act fast, the blue animal is going to be trampled to death. So... She really hates to do this but... The small pink unicorn tosses her head back, wiggles her highly unnatural tail and lifts her front legs, pawing at the air. Her horn changes into the handle of a giant red mallet. Clefable would have been proud. Ponyta would have been indifferent.

Lovestruck gets her name from this attack.

The sight of the very familiar hammer being expertly wielded by a small pink horse is incredibly frightening. Sonic is in too much shock to move, so he gets tapped gently on the head by a hammer much bigger than he is and that's enough to knock him out.

"You are such a softheart." Snorts Rainbow Sunset, the pitch black horse with glowing red eyes. "Fine, we'll let him live. He's still under arrest though."

"Lets get LOTS of ice cream so that he doesn't eat us when he wakes up." suggests a random colorful pony.

"Pft. Don't worry about that." says Lovestruck, dropping down so that she has all four feet on the ground once more. She wiggles her spikey clefable-style tail and the mallet transforms back to a pink spiral unicorn horn. "Remember what happened last time I had to hit someone?" She snorts, rolling her eyes and seeming slightly irritated by the memory.

Several hundred miles away, there is a leafy skunk-ish creature with a spinning halo of blue hearts floating above its head. This creature has escaped from its trainer and is skipping along determinedly through a meadow, wilting the flowers with its odor while whistfully chuckling remarks such as: "Ah my darling, you cannot escape destiny..." But only fellow pokemon would have heard it that way. Humans might have heard it as: 'le..vile..asaur'. Although neither the humans nor the pokemon heard it all that commonly since they would have been running away from the noxious smell long before the skunk-ish animal was in earshot. The pokemons actual trainer was not trying very hard to recapture their escaped creature.

Lovestruck would be the most stalked pony of all time if she got into fights more often. The hammer attack carried an intense effect that didn't always wear off right away. She doesn't enjoy using her signature attack but the giant hammer is actually less damaging than kicks and bites and so forth. She tried not to get involved unless she had a strong opinion to represent and even when she did attack... Lovestruck didn't want to permenantly cripple anyone. Well. Now the herd knew where she stood on the subject of the blue animals innocence. She'd been willing to risk the infatuation.

The herd silently acknowledges this by dipping their heads and shaking their manes. It's a gesture that means: Okay. You want to deal with this? We'll back off.

"Shoulda just trampled him." Rainbow Sunset harumphs. She casually kicks the blue animal into the air then steps under where he would land, catching him on her back. This allows her to carry the criminal without having a mouth full of him. "Well, I could go for some ice cream anyway." Says the miniature pony of the apocalypse. "That was a good run."

Every dimension had its own set of chaos emeralds. Or chaos emerald equivalents. Sonic was now being carried by one of the local ones. Rainbow Sunset had the body art of a clear prism with sunlight streaming in one side and a rainbow streaming out the other. Also, she had lead the chase without attacking.

**ooxoo**

**"-a**nd your little dog, too!"

Thea had just defeated a trainer.

"Gale! Gale!" Cheered her friends and gym assistants. Some were clapping enthusiastically and some were stomping their feet and others were pumping their fists in the air. All of them were sitting on their bikes.

Antoine sits on his bicycle and watches but is nervous and upset. He doesn't join the cheering. "I can't _believe_..." he exclaims rather pointedly, as if trying to drop a subtle hint without expressing his full disapproval. "...that people would try to challenge you in the street!"

"People can be jerks." Thea returns to her bicycle. She reaches in her purse, finds a comb and attempts to tame her hair. She's a bit windblown from the battle. There is a small grey pokemon following her. It does appear to be a little dog. Like a shaggy terrier only with the jaw of a piranha and the dorsal fin of a shark.

"vana?" yips the triumphant little sharkdog happily. "pooochyvana?"

There were around sixty gyms in the world and they were all ranked. If a trainer had one pokemon but wanted to try and earn a gym badge, there was list of which gyms were the least difficult to defeat. If a trainer had two or three pokemon and more battle experience, there was another list. Challenging the Emerald City Gym was not recommended for any trainer with less than four experienced pokemon. Thea did not have a perfect record - no gym leader did - but Emerald City Gym did not give out their badge often. And not everyone handled defeat gracefully. Which was why Thea had trained her pokemon so well. She got challenged a lot, even outside of work. And yes, it was basically illegal these days to have pokemon battles in public places but when the other trainer attacked first... What was she supposed to do? Not defend herself? That wasn't happening.

"I AM still standing right here, you know." Professor Carmen Yado, also windblown, is indeed standing nearby with her fists clenched. Her defeated giant metallic insect is on laying its back with eight legs twitching in the air and a helpless swirly-eyed expression on its face. "And this wasn't my idea! You know how insects are! But I WILL defeat you some day, Dorothea."

"Don't call me that." snaps Thea. She'd had to use her full birth name on League documents for legal reasons - which is how anyone knew her birth name - but she hated to be called by her birth name. Dorothea sounded so old-fashioned. Thea was only twenty-three.

"Vaaaana!" snarls the sharkdog, echoing his trainers angry tone and baring the piranha teeth.

Carmen recoiled a few steps. "What on earth do you feed that creature, anyway?"

"Professor..." Antoine interrupts. He frequently wished that there was a way to keep his career and his personal life more separate. What could he say that would make him seem cool to Thea, the girl of his dreams but not get him fired from his job at the League Museum? Carmen was the senior curator. Antoine was the apprentice historian. His professional future relied on being on good terms with people like Carmen.

"Oh... Hullo, Mr. Frankly." Carmen straightens up. She is aware that she is not setting the best example by being here and allowing her pokemon to start illegal fights. She decides that maybe changing the subject will allow everyone to more quickly forget what just happened and switches to a professional tone. "Have you ordered your pokemon yet?"

Antoine continues to project disapproval at his boss. "No."

Half a dozen phones rang in unison.

Thea Gale, Gym Leader, answered her phone to check the incoming messages. So did Professor Carmen Yado, League Historian. So did all of the gym assistants. Antoine had never felt more left out. He begins feeling more irritated. Placing the order for his first pokemon shouldn't have taken more than ten minutes, tops but with the illegal battle and the constant pausing to read incoming messages from the League... "Another sighting?" He says wearily.

And then, his eyes are drawn to the end of the block where a cloud of dust is rising. Most of the roads are dirt roads.

An entire herd of colorful ponies go prancing down the main street of the Emerald City.

Silence - but with the rumble and clopping of horse hoofs in the distance.

Antoine stares in the direction of the bright parade and sweatdrops. "... those looked just like the pokemon from the police academy..."

"Yeeees." Professor Carmen Yado takes a vial of potion out of her pocket, shakes it and starts to revive her metallic insect. She glances over at Thea. "Where's the best ice cream shop in this city?"

Thea frowns, turning from the professor to her bike gang of gym assistants. "We can handle this."

Half a dozen gym assistants nod, cheer and rub their hands together to show their agreement. "All right!", "It's going to be a round up!" and "Uhm. If the police don't have their horses then..." are heard among the rabble.

"I'm sure that you can." Carmen says but with a high degree of sarcasm. She gingerly helps her no-longer dizzy pokemon back to its feet. "I'm coming along anyway."

"Suit yourself." Thea shrugs. "But you're not in Ketchum Town anymore."

"poooochy..." yips the sharkdog for emphasis as he is lifted and placed into the basket on the front of Theas bicycle. She mounts up and puts her sparkly red shoes to the pedals.

The bikers depart in pursuit of the horses. Professor Carmen is right behind and slightly above them, carried by her flying pokemon.

Antoine remains in the alley. What else can he do? He can't help round up the elemental horses. He doesn't have a pokemon yet. He glances at his watch and sees that it is too late to even place the order for his first pokemon. The genetic company would surely have closed for the day by now. He would have to reschedule the appointment. Antoine sighs. His boss was eccentric and the girl that he loved was too busy to notice him. He didn't want to be around both of them at once, since that tended to be awkward and he didn't want to go to the battle since he had no safe way to get involved. Getting hurt would not impress anyone. It had been a long day and he had to be at work the next morning. _Might as well go home._

Head down and feeling gloomy, Antoine rode towards the train station. This required him to cross the main street.

There was a spikey blue lump in the road.

Staying on a horses back while conscious could be challenging enough. Staying on a horses back while unconscious was close to impossible. People who rode horses didn't often think about the creature they were sitting on. Horses didn't always think about their riders, either. The ponies hadn't thought to tie their captive down or otherwise restrain him. Given their style of feet, it wasn't easy for the horses to tie things down anyway. If a horse wanted to restrain a creature then the horse sat on them. This could be why so many animals in so many worlds have developed spikes for protection. However Sonic was not conscious and the ponies were so keen on getting some ice cream that they were not yet aware that they'd misplaced him. Which was perhaps just as well because even unconcious, the blue hedgehog might have been charged with resisting arrest.

Being an Apprentice League Historian, Antoine had heard of the sandwag by now but he'd not actually gotten to see any of the photos. He'd been cleaning the museum earlier - that was always a chore after a school tour had gone through - and he didn't get League updates sent directly to his phone. So his first thought was not: 'this is the creature that escaped from the Testing Facility and that the entire League is now after?' No. His first thought was: _Wow, this thing needs medical attention._

He knelt down and cautiously prodded the animal a couple of times, wondering if it might recover enough to walk. The animal didn't respond.

Antoine was friends with several trainers and had already taken some mandatory trainer classes. He remembered being told that it was never ever a good idea to pick up an injured pokemon.

"Think of people." One of his teachers had said, "If you saw an injured person just laying in the road, would you rush over and pick them up? What if that made their injuries worse? What if they got scared and attacked you? And pokemon are more dangerous than people, never forget that. So why should you pick them up? No. Having good intentions does not mean that it is a good idea. Even if an injured pokemon gives you _written permission_ to pick them up, DO NOT DO IT. Be smart. Call an ambulance. Let trained professional medics take care of the situation. That's much safer. For everyone. Or..."

Antoine did not have a pokemon. But he did own an empty pokeball because he'd been expecting to own a pokemon, eventually. And the PokeCenter was on the way to the train station so... Why bother an ambulance? Hospitals now had the largest number of vehicles in the world. The ambulances were not all solar powered yet. It might not be environmentally friendly to have the vehicle come out. And with the herd of ponies in a battle downtown there would probably be some roads closed... And the battle downtown might need the ambulances more, if the Jennies proved too much.

Thea would be all right, certainly. But her friends... And his boss...

Mr. Frankly reluctantly took the only pokeball that he owned out of his coat pocket and tapped it against the spikey blue lump. The wounded blue animal was captured and could now be safely transported. Antoine was not happy about this but he couldn't let an animal just die in the street.

_I am such a softheart..._ Antoine sighed again, pocketed the pokeball and returned to his bicycle. He began to pedal - and nearly got his coat tangled in his bike wheels, as usual - towards the PokeCenter and wondered if they'd have to keep his pokeball once the animal was dropped off. He couldn't afford to buy another pokeball right away. _No wonder Thea doesn't notice me._ He felt as if he'd never be able to impress her.

**ooxoo**

**O**nce upon a time, more than hundred years ago...

A Criminal Mastermind sits in an office behind a desk. For no apparent reason at all, cough possible connection here cough, there's a framed photo of a different dimensions President hanging on the wall directly behind him. The Criminal Mastermind lights a cigar and folds his hands, going through the motions slowly and with care so that he can make his minions even more nervous. "Jessie? James?"

He is not talking to a cowboy outlaw. In front of the desk stand a pair of scrawny teenagers. A girl with long red hair, keen fashion sense and a frightening ability to take charge. A boy with short purple hair who is always smelling roses - where he gets the flowers from or why he does not own a grass type pokemon, nobody has any idea. They both have families that they could go home to but instead, they're here. Wearing white uniforms. "Yes, boss?"

"You're fired."

They fall over. Then they scramble to get up. "Again?" Jessie clenches her fists and strikes a dramatic we'll-get-them-next-time pose, "But..."

James, not to be outdone in drama, now has oversized watery eyes and strikes a classic this-can't-be-happening pose. "Give us a second chance! We won't let you down!"

The Criminal Mastermind, leader of Team Rocket, exhales a thin stream of smoke. "Your second chance was about a million chances ago. All you ever do is get defeated by the same boy with the electric mouse. No matter where we send you, he is there and he defeats you."

"Well, yes, that's true." admits James, "But..."

"We DID nearly catch that rare..." Jessie starts.

"Nearly doesn't count." The Criminal Mastermind shrugs, tapping some ash into an ashtray on the desk and wishing that he could get rid of a certain kid named Ash. But he will settle for these two, for now. "May I remind you of the Hidden Village Incident?"

James is going to help us out by having a flashback. However his recall isn't perfect so it's the cliffnotes version of what happened. And it has better costumes and much more dramatic posing.

_Gosh, Jessie. There's a hidden village of rare and dangerous pokemon over there! It's not hidden very well because I can see it! Some of the pokemon are rare and dangerous and, according to rumor, HAVE BEEN TRAINED TO LEVEL NINETY NINE. Yet they've just been abandoned to the wilderness. As if no trainer wants them. As if any trainer who had put in all the time and effort to raise them to LEVEL NINETY NINE would just get bored and walk away._

_Why yes, James, so there is. How convenient. You know, even though the pokemon HAVE BEEN TRAINED TO LEVEL NINETY NINE their trainers are clearly not here AND SO THAT MAKES THEM HARMLESS. Therefore, I think we should try to catch ALL of these pokemon with this simple fishing net. There are countless pokemon living here and some of these individual animals are larger than both of us together, so there's no way that they will all fit into this fishing net BUT LETS TRY IT ANYWAY. What's the worst that could happen? They're just ANIMALS WITH ELEMENTAL ATTACKS. It's not like they will defend themselves! And you know, even though we are both certified pokemon trainers, we are not going to keep ANY of these rare and dangerous creatures to use on future missions. Pokemon are so abundant that trainers all over the world are PRACTICALLY TRIPPING ON THEM and these pokemon are apparently living here because THEIR TRAINERS ABANDONED THEM but I just know that we'll make a fortune selling these animals illegally! The boss will finally love us!_

_Oh excuse me Jessie, I was just on the phone with the kid who always defeats us. He was making a reservation to defeat us, isn't that considerate? His pokemon is NOT level ninety nine and he ALWAYS DEFEATS US but that shouldn't discourage us from taking on this ENTIRE VILLAGE of rare and dangerous pokemon, right? Now about this plan... The fishing net - IT'S BRILLIANT. We seem to have an endless supply of empty pokeballs available but using those would be too predictable. Anyone can use pokeballs! But the fishing net? HA! No one would ever expect it AND THAT'S WHY IT WILL WORK! I always love your plans! Please understand however that my judgement might be a tiny bit impaired. You are so pretty that I would throw myself off a cliff if you asked nicely._

_That's so sweet, James and I may someday hold you to it. Now then... Shall we?_

_Ladies first, I insist._

And so Team Rocket had blasted off, again. But they'd had a third member, trailing behind.

_Err. Guys? I may only BE A POKEMON and so of course, I wouldn't actually KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT POKEMON but..._

Meowth had left them eventually. It was a matter of principle. He'd (almost) always done his best for his human friends but they'd had some creative differences. Aside from the fact that they had failed to accomplish much of anything and had also failed to consult with him several times... Meowth was basically a humanoid siamese cat with a coin on his forehead. He had wanted to live in luxury and Team Rocket - or at least Jessie and James - had always been broke. They'd been TRAVELING WITH A MEOWTH - one of the few pokemon capable of learning Payday, the attack which causes money to magically appear - and yet they'd always been broke. Jessie and James _were_ somehow both legit pokemon trainers but neither of them was HIS trainer and thus... The cat was not so much out of the bag as out of patience. Meowth had packed his bags and moved on.

"I miss Meowth." says James, ending the haphazard flashback within the flashback.

"We had to cut expenses." remarks the Criminal Mastermind briskly. "It's for the good of the whole organization, you understand. Times are tough! Expectations have increased! We have to do more with less! We have to be evil AND efficient! There's no point in propping up the parts of this business that are just losing money. Comic relief and lessons about the nature of fanatical persistance are admirable but not profitable. We can only afford to retain the best! And, with that in mind, you are both still fired."

Jessie does not like to lose arguments but she knows when the cards are stacked against her. "Well, I suppose if it's for the good of the whole organization..."

"It is." reassures the Criminal Mastermind.

"...then we..." Jessie turns to her trusted partner in attempted-but-never-really-committed-crime, "..._could_ retire."

She said 'retire' but in a way that meant 'stop working this job and start working on a different one'.

They had been talking about this for some time. Being teenagers, they had a lot of ambition. Not a lot of money but a lot of ambition. Dreams. James wanted to be a poet and open a flower store someday. Jessie wanted to be a movie producer and dabble in fashion design. Working together, they could probably manage to do all that and then some. Their being in Team Rocket had not done Team Rocket much good but it HAD given each of them a ton of work experience because they'd taken all sorts of jobs while trying to hide from - or spy on - their enemies.

"Awww Jessie, do you mean it?" James has just been fired but is happy enough to be floating. He pulled a fresh rose out of thin air and blew his kind-of-girlfriend a kiss.

The Criminal Mastermind coughs the gut-wrenching cough of a heavy smoker. "Ah. Sorry." He apologizes but without an ounce of sincerity. "See, there's a problem."

"A problem?" Jessie and James repeat.

"Yes." says the Criminal Mastermind. "See... In the first place, way I figure it, you two have been getting paid to accomplish zilch. That's not really fair to me now, is it? So I'd like my money back."

"You would?" sweatdrops Jessie, who is starting to go pale. "That could be a problem, indeed."

"But I'm sure we can work it out!" James is still too happy to even feel afraid. "If you'd let us set up a payment plan once we have new jobs then..."

"There's another problem." The Criminal Mastermind drums his fingers on his desk. "See, you've been with us for a while. You are both chronic failures and yet I'm sure that even you have managed to learn a few valuable things. And so if you two retire... You might be inclined to speak with, for example, the police. Now we can't have that, can we? Have to protect the trade secrets of our business and so forth. Therefore, to ensure your silence, I've taken the liberty of arranging a ... traditional ... Team Rocket farewell." The Criminal Mastermind makes a show of stubbing out the cigar.

Jessie and James barely had the chance to hear the door creak open behind them. They never saw the bullets. Given their names, a dramatic shootout might have been an appropriate way to die but criminal masterminds generally don't play by the rules. Jessie and James were not given the chance to shoot back. Even if these aspiring teenage criminals had carried guns with them for defense - and they hadn't - then they likely would have had such bad aim that ultimately it wouldn't have made a difference to the outcome.

Ten long minutes and an industrial cleanup crew later, another meeting was held in the same office.

"We so sorry, Fearless Leader." says a very short man with a heavy distinctive accent who is dressed all in black and who is cowering in a classic this-can't-be-happening pose. "We no fail you again."

"That's right, Darling." says his tall female sidekick, also dressed in black. She has an accent so heavy and distinctive that it can't be properly written down. Her normal everyday speech pronounces the letter r as if it were the letter h, the letter w gets replaced by the letter v and the letters th got transformed into the letter d. And that's just a few examples. Trying to do justice to this womans accent in writing would require the writer to become fluent in a new language. Even her partner Boris, who is from the same country, sometimes needs subtitles to understand her. "We get them next time!"

Granted, they were chronic failures but they were the best darn chronic failures in the whole organization.

There was always a surprising amount of competition for that dubious honor.

**ooxoo**

**V**ulpersian was not impressed. Neither were the elephants. Or the Echidna. And the League scientists who worked at the New Species Testing Facility were laughing so much that they couldn't even be bothered to film what was going on right outside their window.

Professor Anita Dayoff stood on a hillside and glared at the world in general. The world didn't notice. She wasn't much taller than the grass.

She had two pokemon with her. One of these looked roughly like what might happen if a moose and a squirrel were combined - but it also had a shiny red nose. The other one... Had been built by a genetic company where someone had said: 'Hey, lets take these two unpopular extinct pokemon and mix their DNA and see if that makes them more popular!' And so they had. And it hadn't. The pokemon had been approved for mass production but it hadn't ever been popular. That genetic company wasn't in business anymore.

Wheebok... Even the species name sounded like something that only happened when a chicken laughed. But it was a snake. The pokemon was a cobra - an Arbok - but instead of having a poison dart or intimidating rattle on its tail, it had a large round mass that resembled a smoking tumor. Or at least it would have resembled a smoking tumor, if it had been on the ground. But Wheezing had, through its DNA, gifted the creature with the ability to levitate. The result was like looking at a stray and slightly leaky helium balloon and _then_ realizing that the string was actually a disgruntled cobra who had very limited control over how it moved.

Anita knew that her team was absolutely fearsome, inside Gyms. Outside Gyms, they just never quite seemed to get their act together. And with one member missing... Ursatank had been the most focused of the group, so his absence was keenly felt. _Maybe I shouldn't have said the part about 'surrender now or prepare to fight'..._

Wheebok drifted past on a breeze, sputtering in helpless outrage.

There was a League Champion visiting the facility. He didn't currently have any shoes.

His proper name was Shadow but he'd only recently remembered that. In this world, he was called Adam but only by the peers who had his respect. The rest of the world just had to call him Mister Mysterious. He got a lot of fanmail. Memory or no, he was always prepared to fight. Name hardly mattered. Shoes... Well, okay, those mattered. But he regarded himself as a living weapon. That much hadn't changed. And he liked this world. They had some interesting tools for warriors, here. They had a lot of living weapons. He fit right in.

For Shadow, this was more a feeling than a coherant thought. He'd always regarded himself as a weapon - he wasn't sure why at the moment - but it felt right. And this world... He didn't understand why but it felt right too. He felt accepted. He wasn't really sure why he was here or how he had gotten here or how long he had been here... But he had caught on to the local style of battle very quickly. And he'd acquired some good tools.

To defeat Anita, he hadn't even summoned a pokemon from a pokeball. He hadn't even spoken. He'd just turned and whistled. The tall leafy fern had launched an attack from the parked car without even breaking its rhythm. It was still swaying to the music of the car radio. And that was the pokemon that he'd LEFT HERE in order to borrow the electric elephant. Earlier today, with the help of the electric elephant, he had shut down Team Shadow. He'd been doing this as a favor to the League. Not as a personal vendetta. He hadn't remembered his own name until halfway through defeating the criminals. If there hadn't been a Team Shadow to confront in this world then he might never have remembered it at all.

He knew that he was from a different world but he didn't remember where. He knew that he hadn't always been human but he wasn't sure of what other species he'd been.

Currently, he was more concerned about getting his shoes back than anything else. He kept his house key in his shoes. That was why he was even still here. There was no point in going home without a house key. He could have broken the door down, of course and so could any of his pokemon but new doors were expensive and the landlord would have thrown a fit.

"Is that all you've got?" Adam decides that Shadow sounds more like a last name and he instantly prefers it to Mysterious. Mysterious, he further decides, can be a middle name. Adam Mysterious Shadow. Hrm. Yea. Nice ring to it. Respectable.

The pokemon of the New Species Testing Facility had become the audience. As pokemon, they were connoiseurs of violence. They had been designed for battle and could therefore watch battles with a high degree of critical appreciation. Echidna stood in shrouded and stoic silence with her arm-like appendages crossed. Vulpersian sat on the sidelines of battle and was prepared to take notes. The elephants and other pokemon in the area chatted among themselves and were careful not to stand between these known rivals. If they hadn't all been worn out from the string of intense fights earlier then they might have felt more compelled to get involved. But there were two trainers and only one of them was intimidating. The pokemon in residence at the facility were far more threatened by the League Champion - who had apparently chosen to defend them out of boredom - than by Anita, who had promised to do something evil.

The short lady with the standing-on-end purple pigtails and the bright shiny looking labcoat had literally promised to 'do something evil'. Just like that. Word for word. She hadn't said WHAT.

And it was vague threat that these pokemon had all heard before. So they weren't panicking.

Besides, it was a legal battle. It was taking place on League property. The pokemon of the New Species Testing Facility... With the exception of the elephants - the Phan series - these new genetically built animals weren't legal yet. They hadn't been approved by the League for mass production. Echidna never would be, she was a reject. Vulpersian had slim odds for approval. They would probably never have trainers.

Vulpersian was not the smartest pokemon in the universe but is suddenly able to contemplate this. Vulpersian LIKED fighting. If Vulpersian never got approved by the League... Then the only fighting Vulpersian would be doing would be here, at the Testing Facility. No travel, no glory. No trainer. Humans were weird. Humans like Anita and the mysterious League Champion... If all humans were like THAT then being a rejected species was okay. No trainer was fine and dandy. Giving up on adventure and glory was a small price to pay.

...although, if the blue animal WAS a valid trainer...

Obnoxious and speedy though the weird blue animal had been... Vulpersian realized that deep down, it would choose a humanoid trainer over a regular human trainer any day of the week. And the firefox DID feel a tug of loyalty towards the blue animal because nobody else had ever worked WITH Vulpersian during a battle.

The Testing Facility did not have fences. There was a sign up, labeling the area but the absence of a fence had actually helped to conceal the location. Leaving the acres open had made the whole facility less noticable. People could fly and drive right by - or through - the place and not notice the distant buildings tucked into the wilderness. The buildings weren't much to look at from the outside. Not even to the few unauthorized passersby who had noticed them. So if Professor Anita Dayoff had not also been a League employee then she would not have been able to find the place.

But even without fences... There were other barriers. There were, inside the testing facility, the elephant wardens. There were, outside the testing facility, the police. And the League Champions could show up anywhere. None of these groups were likely to tolerate an unapproved pokemon species escaping. And if caught, the punishment could be severe. Lethally severe.

Plus the fact remained: the blue animal was fast.

With such speed, how far away could the blue animal have gotten? Where had the blue animal gone? Why had it been in such a hurry? When would it come back? Would it come back at all? Where to even look for it? Why even bother? Maybe the blue animal didn't WANT to be a trainer. Maybe that's WHY the blue animal had run away. As a partial cat, Vulpersian begins to get offended. _How dare that obnoxious blue animal run away from the chance to be MY trainer!_ That HAD to be an insult, didn't it? But how to find the obnoxious blue animal? How to teach the blue animal the errors of its ways and prove it wrong? How to keep up with it, even once it was found? How could a search be conducted without being noticed? How to escape without being caught?

Vulpersian calculated the risks and decided to gamble. It reached through a cloud of icy bubbles with a stubby paw and nudged the Echidna. "You hate me, right?" Growls the little fox but humans would have only heard 'vulper...?'

Echidnas face is shrouded like the rest of her but even so, her body language conveys a degree of hostility that makes the answer clear. Yes. She hates the self-proclaimed rival that has been trying to push her towards extinction ever since they met.

"If you help me escape, you'll never have to see me again." says Vulpersian in its own language, "Because even if they catch me and bring me back here, I'm dead."

Echidna considers the offer. She has a voice that blends a little girls high-pitched squeal with the roar of a dragon - and that is when she's in a good mood. "You promise?"

"Are my tails crossed?" Vulpersian counters hauntily. And no, they aren't. "Of course I promise! I hate you too, remember? The League isn't likely to approve me. That means I could be stuck living here FOREVER. With YOU. Ha! You think I want THAT?"

"Point taken." Echidna concedes.

And they have NOT been whispering.

"Uhm..." says TKO, the electric sheep/elephant and current spokes-pokemon of the wardens. "... I am standing right here, you know and we aren't supposed to let you escape."

"But it would make your job easier if I was gone - right?" Vulpersian reasons, "No more patrols to rake up money? No more breaking up the battles that get too close to where the humans work? I WILL burn down their building if you try to keep me here. You know I could. Don't make me prove it."

The elephants sweatdrop, huddle and consult each other.

Eventually TKO leans down. "Why not take the Echidna, too? That would make our jobs a LOT easier."

A cloud of icy bubbles becomes a cloud of icy sweatdrops.

"AND the Pikadatuffree!" chimes in another elephant, before violent protests between Echidna and Vulpersian can break out. "PLEASE! Take the Pikadatuffree!"

The elephants, as a group, glance anxiously in the direction of a distant and mildly charred building that - even from the outside - resembles a prison. Maximum security. Solitary confinement. Death row. The elephants, with their sensitive ears, are aware that few faint notes of sad harmonica music can be heard coming from within. But they're the only ones.

"You mean..." says the not-quite-mythical Echidna in a tone of concern and horror. "...there really IS a Pikadatuffree?!"

Humans had vowed to built their new genetic pokemon better, faster, stronger, smarter and so on. And they had. The average pokemon these days could, with a little training, have trampled most of the ancient legendary wild pokemon. Pikadatuffree, it was rumored, had been rejected for being an example of precisely what science could achieve. Science had gotten the core tissue samples from a certain trained Pikachu that was obscenely powerful to begin with. To improve on THAT... Well, that was too much. Going overboard. The creature wasn't invincible but still... It was unnatural. And even in a world where the pokemon were built and cuteness was a desirable trait... There were actual _laws_ against _that much _cuteness. The thing had to be destroyed and it would be, just as soon as someone figured out HOW.

Vulpersian adamantly flattens its tufted ears, exhales some smoke from its nostrils and privately reconsiders the wisdom of trying to escape. "NO WAY." Vulpersian swishes both tails. "The humans would notice! If I'm going to risk my life to do this then I'm going alone!"

Now it's Echidnas turn to be offended. "Excuse me? Are you implying that I couldn't escape if -"

"YOU LIKE IT HERE!" Shouts Vulpersian, fur bristling. "Everyone knows that! Don't even pretend that you want to come along! You wouldn't be able to keep up with ME, let alone the obnoxious blue..."

"I _could_ freeze you solid." deadpans Echidna, in a terrible high-pitched shrieky sort of voice. "Or poison you. That might slow you down a touch, hrm?"

Vulpersian has had enough and coughs a wall of flame. Echidna lurches into battle with swirling icy fog and poison-tipped claws that are too big for her hands. It doesn't take a fraction of a second for them to literally be at each others throats and snarling things that humans would be offended by, if they understood the pokemon language.

Anita, Wheebok, Adam, the elephants and all the new pokemon species in the area who have not either run away or fallen asleep are now the audience. Indoors, the dedicated League scientists take a few more notes on animal behavior.

_Hey..._ Thinks Adam M. Shadow, League Champion. _That little fox creature is the same animal that I saw sitting outside the building right before the blue blur stole my shoes... And it's the same one that was working with the blue creature earlier, according to reports. I wonder if IT knows where the sandwag was going. Or at least if it knows where my shoes are. Hrm._

Adam steps toward his solar-powered car and whistles.

The tall leafy potted plant swaying to the music in the car launches an attack.

The elephants and assorted other pokemon flee to a safe distance - which requires them to do a LOT of fleeing, it's a wide-range attack. Wheebok, the balloon snake, is blown away by the force of it and goes bobbing and sputtering through the air. Anita gives chase and her moose-squirrel with the bright red nose flys after her. Team Rocket has blasted off again. Meanwhile, Echidna is knocked backwards but lands in a coiled heap. Then Echidna gathers her icy shroud, blocks and resists because poison types can resist grass types. And not-quite-mythical poison types can resist even surreally-dangerous grass types. And Vulpersian... Fire types should be able to resist grass types, of all things. But even the wild grass native to this world is mostly fireproof nowadays. And Vulpersian had been caught off guard. So Vulpersian gets knocked silly and ends up laying on the ground, drooling and counting the pretty little coins that are spinning around its head.

Adam picks the Vulpersian up by the scruff of its neck and goes indoors to tell the League scientists. "I'm going to borrow this one for a while."

"Uh..." The geeky looking League scientists pause their work and collectively sweatdrop. "Sir? That's not an approved species yet and so we can't lend..."

"I wasn't ASKING." Adam points out coldly. He smiles but it is the smile of a living weapon.

"...yes, sir..."

Adam placed a pokeball on a table, intending to make this illegal trade seem fair.

"You'd better take that, sir." Comments a geeky looking League scientist who wears their labcoat over a business suit. "Because unless you decide to see reason and leave the Vulpersian here, we are going to have to report you. And you know what that means."

He did. Adam was a League Champion but he wasn't the only person in this world who held that title. And he wasn't currently the highest ranked League Champion either. If he stole Vulpersian... The League dealt with its own. The scientists would be bound to report him to the higher ranked Champions. Maybe even THE Champion. Number one. Highest ranked. They would hunt him down and...

Adam realizes that he is about to risk his whole career and his happiness, all for some shoes. And his house key. He nearly changes his mind.

However... As an aspiring warrior... He'd been planning to eventually challenge some of the higher ranked Champions anyway. It was the quickest way to move up. It was a matter of pride. If he was reported... Oddly enough, being hunted down might actually work in his favor. People would have to chase him. They'd have to come to him. So he'd get to choose the battlegrounds. That could be a worthwhile advantage.

What if he defeated all of them? Would the League still be willing and able to punish him, if he became the number one Champion? And what else might he remember, during the course of those battles?

There was only one way to find out.

**ooxoo**

**I**nside the PokeCenter, it was always the same scene. The foyer was a waiting room. Neat and tidy. Tile floors with decorative carpets done in pokeball shapes. Tables and chairs and stacks of old magazines. A counter.

Behind the counter stood a woman. She was tall, pretty and perpetually cheerful. She dressed as a nurse and was called a Nurse but in truth, she acted as the resident doctor/dentist/veternarian and could even perform surgery if needed. She looked like a young adult but she'd looked like a young adult for more than a hundred years. Her head contained all the information she needed to provide the proper care to every single species of pokemon that had ever existed, no matter what was wrong with them. She could also provide care to the human trainers of pokemon. With such a vast amount of knowledge to draw from in her brain, she could even provide treatment to new pokemon species that she'd never seen before. An identical copy of this lady worked in every pokemon center on the planet - and there had always been more PokeCenters than Gyms in this world, in fact there were possibly even more PokeCenters than police stations in this world - but there was a reasonable explanation for how this was possible: the woman was a robot.

And Sonic, destroyer of robots, had been healed. His feet were no longer mangled. His physical injuries were all gone. So he was starting to recover consciousness. He didn't quite feel himself though. A certain effect was still in play. There was a halo of tiny blue hearts orbiting his spikey head.

Perhaps once, a long time ago, there really had been a human called Nurse Joy. But these days, all the Nurse Joys were robots. She was a built-in feature of the pokemon center. She came standard with the hospital. She operated the healing machines. The PokeCenters were open twenty-four hours a day, every day of the year and so there had to be a reliable qualified medic on duty at all times because you never knew what kind of emergency would walk - or limp or crawl or otherwise enter - through the front doors. Being robots, none of the modern Nurse Joys had ever needed a day off and she didn't even get a payday. She worked because the work was her reason for existing.

Nurse Joy of the Emerald City PokeCenter was one of the few robots who was able to keep busy most of the time. In small towns without gyms, the robot nurses got bored. There were rumors that the bored robots sometimes went out of their ways to CAUSE injuries among people and pokemon, just so that they would have some healing work to do - but those rumors had not yet been proven. And_ this _Nurse Joy was definitely not one of _those _bored robots, anyway.

Definitely.

Antoine sat in the waiting room. He listened to some crashing noises from the rooms behind the counter while pretending to read an old magazine. There were no other trainers here at the moment.

Nurse Joy, slightly disheveled and with a few wires sticking out of her joints - as if she'd recently been hugged by something spikey - appeared behind the counter and strolled to her reception desk. She opened a cupboard, rummaged in the cupboard, took out a gigantic needle, put the needle over her shoulder like soldier carrying a rifle and then began to casually stroll back to the rooms where the pokemon were actually cared for. It was traditional for these rooms to be off-limits to the trainers.

"Uh... Is everything all right?" Antoine wondered.

"Oh, yes, sir. Just a case of infatuation." beeped Nurse Joy cheerfully as she skated - her feet could become rollerskates - away. "The needle always cures it."

"..." Antoine watched the robot leave and started to wonder if he really wanted to be a trainer at all. He would have to come to PokeCenters more often, if he was an official trainer. He wasn't sure that he wanted to do that. Nurse Joy was scary. He tried to calm himself and think about something more pleasant._ I wonder how Thea is doing..._

The building shook. An epic battle was going on outside. The front doors of the PokeCenter were flung open and a random colorful pony crashed into the foyer. The horse lay still for a long moment on a decorative rug and then staggered up, shook itself, snorted and dashed back out to rejoin the fighting.

_I guess Thea is doing okay..._

In the rooms behind the check-in counter, something screamed.

Mr. Antoine Frankly had a blue blur hiding behind him before he even knew what was going on.

Nurse Joy returned to the check-in counter a moment later. "Your pokemon has been fully healed." She beeped and bowed cheerfully. "Thank you. Come again."

"Errr. It's not actually my animal, though so... Can I leave it here?" Antoine begins, being honest. He gets grabbed by the collar of his coat and dragged down about two feet in order to be at eye level with someone.

"ARE YOU INSANE?" Sonic pauses in mid-traumatic-rant and realizes something. "Hey! I UNDERSTOOD you!" The humanoid hedgehog studies the startled expression of the human with the tiny blond mustache. "And you understand ME too, dontcha?"

"..." Antoine is aware that trainers - especially new trainers - are not supposed to be able to understand pokemon. "... This can't be happening." He tries to stand up but the blue animal has a firm grip on his coat collar and the strength to keep him down.

"If I can understand YOU and no one else..." Sonic is rationalizing aloud. The adult human in front of him seems kind of familiar but he's not sure why. He can't place the guy. He's dealt with too many people, animals and robots to remember them all clearly. "Then YOU must be the one who is going to help me find a way home!"

"Listen..." demands Antoine, who has recovered his composure a bit and who is now secretly planning to run away from this rather menacing blue animal as soon as he has the opportunity. "Just because I didn't leave you to die in the middle of the road - and maybe I SHOULD have - that doesn't mean that I'm prepared to commit to whatever crazy scheme you are talking about. Now let me go."

"What, you think you can run away?" Sonic has seen the secretly-planning-to-run-away expression before on others and is amused. "Sorry bud. Even if I release you, that's not happening. Maybe you haven't noticed but I'm kinda swift. And I need some answers. Plus some new shoes." Sonic inspects Antoines brown boots. "And those aren't my style. Help me out, okay? It's the only way to get rid of me and besides, I could end up saving your world before I go home."

Antoine is released. He stands, dusts off his coat, takes a couple steps back and glares down in bewilderment. "Our world doesn't need saving..."

The building shakes. A herd of colorful ponies stampede past the front door of the PokeCenter, trailing a wide range of elemental attacks. Thea and her biker gang are right behind the herd and their own pokemon are also all trailing elemental attacks. Carmen is carried past the door a few moments later by a giant metallic insect, she is holding a comically tall ice cream cone in each hand and shouting: "heeeere pony, pony..." Behind her come a busload of panicked human police officers armed with fishing nets.

Silence.

"Oh dear, I do hope that someone..." Nurse Joy beeps cheerfully from behind the PokeCenter counter and then clicks, rapidly editing her remark without changing her digital tone at all. "NO one... gets hurt."

Antoine now had a sweatdrop larger than his head.

Sonic looks away from the front door and strikes the I-really-wish-this-wasn't-happening-but-I'll-deal-with-it-anyway pose of an experienced interdimensional hero. "And you expect me to believe that this world doesn't need saving? Yea. Sure. Nice try."

**ooxoo**

**A** solar-powered car has just driven away from the New Species Test Facility. Vulpersian has been taken. So has the tall leafy fern. Echidna is among those who watched the vehicle go.

_Good riddence._ Thinks the not-quite-mythical monster.

She yawns, stretches and beats up a few other pokemon with casual ease - just for something to do. None of her victims are weak but none of them are as creative or as practiced as the Vulpersian. Whom she hates. So of course, Echidna does not miss the firefox. That just wouldn't make any sense.

_...it was kind of nice having a rival, though..._

Echidna glances at the various elephants patrolling the meadows. No. The elephants tended to attack as a group. That wasn't the same. Echidna was a veteran warrior and didn't want to get out of practice but she didn't care to be outnumbered, either. Besides, if she started fighting with the elephants then the elephants might actually get stronger. And even though Echidna liked living in the meadows of the testing facility, she also liked the idea that right now she could leave if the whim struck. She really didn't ever intend to leave but it was just nice to know that the option was there - that she could leave if she wanted to. But if the elephant wardens got stronger then that option would vanish. She'd be trapped. Worse, she would have helped to build the trap. So Echidna had always avoided fighting with elephants. She did enough to make them all nervous and left it at that.

It was a shame. The elephants were probably the best warriors here, now that Vulpersian was gone. They could have been decent rivals.

Although... Not too long ago, someone had mentioned the Pikadatuffree.

Echidna had heard of Pikadatuffree before but had never seen it. Did the overly cute and dangerous animal really exist? As a veteran rejected species, it bothered Echidna to think that she could have been living in the meadows for so long without even stumbling across it. If the animal was out here somewhere then why hadn't she ever seen it around? Was it any good at fighting? Maybe it would be a decent rival.

Perhaps it was worth investigating.

If nothing else, maybe it was fated.

Fate wanders in to do a little hippie-style chanting: Free...the...Pikadatuffree!

Echidna lives inside a cloud of icy bubbles. The shroud could work both ways - Echidna is not often seen and also not always very observant. She can get caught up in her own thoughts and ignore the details of the outside world, once in a while. If Echidna had been more observant then SHE probably would have been the first to attack Sonic. But she hadn't even noticed Vulpersian, her former rival, much before the firefoxs third or so attempt to kill her.

So, no surprise, when Echidna did some investigating... The elephants lead her directly to a mildly charred building that she'd slithered past many times. Without ever noticing.

"But this CAN'T be right!" Echidna intones in her unique screamy-roar, sounding disappointed. "If it's so dangerous then how could it be contained?" She points an oversized poison-tipped claw at the elephants. "Even YOU could tear down the walls of that prison." She considers and her voice switches to anger. "Are you trying to trick me or something?"

From inside the prison, there is an attentive silence.

Hi, waves Fate. We left out something kind of important earlier, I bet you noticed. We didn't tell you EXACTLY WHY those marvelous and imaginative ancient greeks feared their version of Echidna so much, did we? Because it wasn't the reason you might expect. Echidna was a terror by herself, of course and had a wide range of skills but the greeks had so many other monsters. And the surprising reason that Echidna was once feared, you see, is because rather a startling number of those other monsters would have looked at the Echidna and said...

"MOM!" squeaks an excessively cute voice from inside the prison but humans would have only heard "PIKA!" and the excited flutter of tiny pink wings.

An innocent building is just plain vaporized. While the dust is settling, something small and radiantly adorable politely apologizes to the smoking crater where the building used to be. Then the little creature leaps forward to hug a certain someone.

"..." Echidna has just become full-fledged mythical. And also a single parent. Of a different species monster. By vote of that monster.

Isn't mythology great? says Fate.

_But... That doesn't make ANY sense!_ Echidna manages to find a coherant thought amid the shock. _And I don't want to be a parent!_ She could easily pry the little animal off her arm-like appendage and attack - but Echidna has made the terrible mistake of actually looking at the little animal. _...it's... so...darn...CUTE... Arg! I can't move!_

Pikachu, Spinda, Wigglytuff and Butterfree would have all been proud. If they hadn't been extinct.

**ooxoo**

**Author Notes:** Greetings, oh lone reviewer. Nice to know that someone is out there. Mario isn't a bad idea, thanks for the suggestion. I will put it on the list but I don't know if I'll actually use it. Pokeverse and Sonicverse are both such flexible basic settings... There is no shortage of compatible fictional(some are less fictional than others but yea...) worlds wanting to make cameo appearances in this story and I feel honorbound to mention the ones that are perhaps less expected. One of my main goals with this project is to attempt to show just how well some of these worlds blend. So the really fun/challenging thing - for me, as the writer - about this weird story is that NONE of the characters are truly mine. Not even the mythical greek Echidna. I'm just tweaking(and some things need more tweaking than others but yea...) what's out there and plugging it together in hopefully entertaining ways.

P.S - I wrote the bit about Cinnabar volcano rearranging the geography of the pokemon world BEFORE our own real Japan had all of it's troubles. I feel sincerely awkward about this. If the event wasn't straight out of the pokemon games - they DO use the disaster to rearrange the whole Kanto area map - then I wouldn't have left it in this story. Please get better, Japan!

**ooxoo**


	6. 3:2

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**3:2**

**T**he most awesome professional race car in the multiverse was parked in a forest. The Batmobile was pleased with this situation because it hardly ever got to park in forests. Agent Rouge sat on the edge of the drivers side seat, leaning forward. This was not unusual. Rouge always leaned forward when she sat because she had wings. Chairs were just another piece of furniture that so many other creatures took for granted and that Rouge had to be careful of.

In the city it had been night time but out here, the sun was still up. The large sign at the edge of the forest had read: The Great Forest. But Dr. Robotnik was not the only human who had some trouble getting along with the other native species. Humans were always buying and sometimes even seizing the lands that had once belonged to animals. So the Great Forest sign also had a line carved through it and another sign next to it which had read: The Hundred Acre Woods.

Thankfully, a hundred acres is a considerable amount of space. So the odds of crossing paths with certain characters right away has been reduced to nonexistent.

Rouge was not currently interested in the history of the property, political or otherwise. She was not aware that a bizarre interdimensional disaster that might have actually started closer to her own casino than to the floating island was going to, within a chapter or so, end up being most visible here. Rouge just assumed that the ownership of the forest had changed. She had come here for one reason: to locate the fox boy.

A yard from where the Batmobile was parked loomed the dark entrance to an underground tunnel. The location would have been well concealed if the door hadn't been off its hinges and laying on the ground. Rouge was glad to have found the place at all but did not have a good feeling about this.

She slipped out of the car window - she enjoyed using windows instead of doors, when given the choice - and went to have a look around.

The door on the ground had a trio of tall slim shapes punched through it. Rouge did not recognize the shape. _What could have done that? _She leaned warily into the tunnel and called out: "Anyone home?" Her voice echoed through the dark. Rouge was not bothered by the darkness. She did not need a flashlight. She was a humanoid bat. Her night vision was even better than her regular vision and her sonar... Rouge cleared her throat, warmed up her vocal chords and made a sound like "mwah!" as she blew a kiss down the tunnel. Her voice bounced off the tunnel walls and came back to her.

She got the mental image of a train wreck.

_What? That can't be right..._ Unable to believe what her senses have told her, Rouge walked down the tunnel. She paused to let her eyes adjust and being a humanoid bat, that didn't take long.

She reached a large cluttered area that did indeed have its own private train wreck but it appears that no one had been on the train. There isn't any indication of passengers. No scattered luggage or injured persons. Just an empty train. Crashed. In a workshop. Underground.

Fox boy had built a spaceship underground once, apparently. Maybe he'd just decided to experiment with railroads? He didn't appear to be here right now, though. And it was hard to be certain of how recent the train wreck was because there was all kinds of other stuff piled up in here as well. It was as if a base somewhere had exploded and all of the debree had ended up in this place.

As a secret agent, Rouge knew that she could - and maybe should - take the opportunity to explore and gather data. As a part-time jewel thief, she was aware that fox boy might be storing a chaos emerald around here. But as a warrior who had helped to save the world in the past... Rouge knew that taking a chaos emerald, if there even was one here, from fox boys workshop would probably not be a good idea. And as a humanoid bat who hated clutter and who had to be careful of her wings...

Rouge left the workshop without touching anything.

She loved all sorts of jewels but chaos emeralds... Meh. The accurately named gems were beautiful but there was no point in getting attached to them. Someone always needed the chaos emeralds for something. Rouge was a skilled fighter but she was not a match for the speed of the male hedgehogs or the raw strength of the echidna. She could not pull a giant mallet out of thin air and she did not have a voracious insect to command. And she was not about to hoard the jewels and prevent any of those heros from saving the world, either. She had collected the chaos emeralds before but had always given them up when the world was at stake. Thus Rouge had seen the kind of damage that the chaos emeralds could do, in the battles that she'd been to. Hence these days she preferred to collect non-magical jewelry. She could expect to be allowed to keep non-magical jewelry. That made it a better investment and worth her time to secure. Less dangerous, too.

Once back outside, Rouge paused. Just to be certain that she wasn't missing anything important, she used her sonar voice again.

"Mwah!"

Her voice bounced and came back to her more slowly because this was an open space, not a underground tunnel. She gradually got a mental image of the forest around her. Trees. Rocks. Ground. Insects. The most awesome professional race car in the multiverse, playing in the mud.

_Note to self: have Mecha check the car for sentience._

Her voice continued to return to her. Her mental image of the landscape expanded. Trees. Rocks. Cliff.

_...cliff?! Where? _Rouge hadn't noticed any cliffs. She followed her mental map. _Oh, it's just a hole in the ground..._ The sharp high-heels of her boots let her know that the 'ground' was a few inches of dirt and leaves piled on top of a metal hatch. She could hear her boots scrape the metal as she walked across it. And the hatch was open so anyone with good vision could see that the hole in the ground was big enough for a plane to be launched out of. _Aha..._

Hrm. Looked as though fox boy had probably gone out in an airplane. Rouge didn't feel like waiting around for his return. Where might he have flown off to? Where to look for him next?

Rouge gave this some thought, made a decision, coaxed the car out of the puddles and rapidly departed. For better or worse, she and the Batmobile left exactly the same way that they'd come. Otherwise they'd have seen a completely different set of signs on the far side of the forest. And they would have been in a different dimension, as well. And not just because the Batmobile was able to transcend dimensions but because the universes were fusing. The boundaries were distorting.

Christopher Robin is probably already on his way to astonishing the pokemon world. He has a surprisingly large, skilled and loyal team of monster friends to help him make an impression.

**ooxoo**

**A** desert landscape. A blue and orange blur races along the ground. A jet-powered biplane follows it, flying fast and low.

"Soniiiiiic! Hey! Come on! This isn't funny anymore!"

The blur on the ground zigzags from one horizon to another. The plane does its best to stay in pursuit.

Zoom out.

A little girl with dark skin, large dark eyes, short hair, a sentient backpack and simple outfit enters the scene and stands on the left. She is accompanied by a grey and yellow humanoid monkey with a curly tail that is just a little bit taller than her. She looks out at the world and speaks as if to an audience. "What was YOUR favorite part of todays adventure?"

In the background, the Roadrunner is now hanging four on the wing of the plane. A ten ton anvil drops out of the sky and, with stunning precision, replaces the planes engine.

"I liked that part too!" says the little girl, apparently oblivious to the scene behind her.

In the background the Roadrunner has returned to being a land-based blur. Tails has bailed out and despite the fact that he can fly, he is using a parachute. The jet does a nose-dive into the ground and explodes on impact, creating a mushroom cloud.

Zoom out again.

Now there's also a little girl standing on the right. She has pinkish skin, large dark eyes, short hair done up in buns with flowers, a backpack in the shape of a dinosaur and a simple outfit. She is accompanied by a grey and tan monkey that is small enough to sit comfortably on top of her head and that has a curly tail. She also speaks as if to an audience. "And how does that make you FEEL?"

The girls and their monkeys pause to notice each other. Then each little girl raises a hand to wave and smiles, so it's almost a mirror image.

"Hola, Kai-lan!" says the girl on the left.

"Nihao, Dora!" says the girl on the right.

Neither of these children used to live in this dimension - but now they both do.

Keep zooming out.

Wile E. Coyote put down the binoculars, frowned thoughtfully, rubbed his chin and tapped his foot on the ground. He consulted a photo of Miles 'Tails' Prower that had been labeled, in bright red ink: TARGET. This was part of a trade. Wile E. was supposed to destroy the kitsune and then that struggling genius from the tavern would bag the bird. If it was possible to actually do so. Wile E. had been trying to catch the Roadrunner for more than fifty years and was starting to run out of ideas. He'd already done every variation on the catapult that he could think of, among other schemes. Why not let someone else have a try? Even if that Robotnik fellow failed, it wouldn't hurt to let him try.

The coyote didn't hate the Roadrunner. Wile E. considered the bird more of a rival than an enemy. He'd even caught and released the speedy bird a couple of times. Eating other animals was normal for a coyote but he would have died of starvation ages ago, if he'd been relying on the bird for a meal. It was so skinny! All neck and leg and feathers. Not worth hunting, much less eating. Wile E. had been tempted to act on his natural predatory instincts more than a few times in the past - and he still had a few exclusive cookbooks with nothing but roadrunner recipes in them laying around his den - but this coyote was smart. He'd adapted and found other ways to survive, which was just as well. Chase something for fifty years and it's hard not to get philosophical on the subject. Deep down, Wile E. had come to realize that if he ever truly succeeded in capturing the bird once and for all... Then the world would probably end.

But if _someone else_ caught the Roadrunner... Well. Maybe the world wouldn't notice.

He'd been chasing the bird out of need, at first and then out of pride and finally out of sheer habit. There just wasn't much else to do, in the desert. The coyote had even gone through a stage where he'd been grateful, on some mild level, for the bird. Because if the Roadrunner hadn't existed then Wile E. wouldn't have had anyone around to challenge his intellect or keep him company. If he defeated the bird then he'd be left in the desert to live and die in isolated boredom.

But if _someone else_ defeated the Roadrunner... Then that someone else could become the coyotes new rival.

Maybe it would be good for the brain cells to take a break from the routine, though. Perhaps trying to achieve a different goal would be healthy and refreshing. Maybe he could even get a change of scenary. Yes. That would be nice. Wile E. loved the desert. He was a native to the desert and knew that he would always return to the desert - it was home - but he was also a curious genius and part humanoid. There was a whole world beyond the desert, he knew. He'd not seen very much of it and he wasn't getting younger. He didn't seem to be getting older, either but that was not the point. Travel could be educational and relaxing. Wile E. had wanted to travel for quite a long time. There were trains that passed through the desert. Wile E. wanted to see where the trains came from and where the trains went and maybe even visit the company that he was always mail-ordering things from.

He didn't really expect the Robotnik guy - or anyone else - to succeed in catching the bird but it had always been impossible for the coyote to take a vacation. The Roadrunner followed him, most of the time. The Roadrunner tended to come looking for him, when he wasn't chasing it. Maybe if someone else chased the bird then it would leave him alone for a while.

The human, Robotnik, wasn't here to chase the bird yet but that was okay. The human had some other trades to work on. And maybe the human didn't even need to be here. It appeared that the kitsune was an acceptable substitute.

Kitsunes... Wile E. specialized in creative mechanics but he did also know some lore. He knew that a kitsune was a magical fox. Because coyotes were, in the lore of cultures where kitsunes didn't exist, regarded as magical as well. And being magical had never helped Wile E. Uhm. No. That was a lie. Being magical had allowed him to survive being flattened, being run over and being blown up - among other things. Repeatedly. But being magical had not ever given him any particular advantages when it came to the pursuit. That was why he'd agreed to take the kitsune as a target. Wile E. had been eager to match wits with another magical creature. He'd been anxious to find out if being magical helped anyone else. So far being magical didn't appear to be making a difference for the kitsune, though. The Roadrunner must have its own lore.

Come to think of it, the trains that passed through the desert almost never showed up until the bird had run either across or along the train tracks... And sometimes the train tracks didn't even show up until the bird had meeped...

Anyway. If the kitsune wanted to chase the bird, fine. Perhaps they would destroy each other. Or perhaps the Robotnik fellow would destroy them both.

Wile E. put away the photo of his new target and went to pack for a long overdue vacation. If the kitsune and bird were still chasing each other when he returned THEN he would get involved. If the kitsune was gone and the bird was still here, then he'd have an old rival. But if the bird was gone and the kitsune was still here when he returned... Or if the bird and the kitsune were both gone and someone else was lurking around... Then he'd have a new rival. The coyote was prepared to deal with any of those circumstances. But for now, he had a suitcase to pack. And since he didn't actually own that much - most of his inventions had been destroyed after one use - packing didn't take him very long.

Now he just had to figure out how to leave the desert. Wile E. didn't quite remember the way. It had been a while since he'd last departed. Because he could even reach the interdimensional tavern without leaving the desert. For him, the doorway to that place opened in the desert. He never would have found the interdimensional tavern if he'd had to leave the desert. He really didn't leave the desert often. And who could blame him, for visiting a tavern - interdimensional or otherwise. The desert was a wonderful place to live but it was also - tada - dry. There wasn't a lake or a river or a grocery store. His den had limited plumbing. He liked to order fruit drinks at the tavern but even if they'd only had water for sale, he would have been a regular there. Because water was a rare commodity, in the desert. It hardly ever rained. The Roadrunner must be able to dig for water or maybe the bird somehow got water from the trains but... The coyote relied on the interdimensional tavern.

The door for the interdimensional tavern was only here at certain times and it was gone for now, otherwise that could have been an easy exit.

He looked at the desert. Aside from the flaming wreckage of the biplane on the ground and the orange parachute sailing through the sky, there weren't a lot of landmarks. Even someone who'd spent their whole life in the desert could easily lose their sense of direction in this place. So Wile E. honestly wasn't sure which way to go, in order to leave.

Thankfully, two friendly little human girls - one of whom was a certified explorer - and their monkeys were on hand to help.

Hey, if you couldn't trust the kids then what was the world coming to?

**ooxoo**

**R**ouge trusted her instincts. And her instincts were currently saying: the car is a robot and it can hear me.

The Batmobile, for the second time in this story, was parked on the large floating island. Rouge had not expected to be able to reach the large floating island in a car. She'd made a remark along the lines of: 'now where can I park you while I fly over there...' without expecting any sort of answer - but the car had transformed. It had flown. So here they were, on the large floating island.

_It doesn't want to be left behind?_ Rouge thought, _Did someone neglect it? Or is it just being helpful?_ "My, what a clever...car...you are." She said aloud. She exited through the window and patted the most awesome professional race car in the multiverse affectionately on the hood. She knew, from working around robots at the casino, that even if robots didn't have precisely the same kinds of feelings that organic lifeforms did... They did still appreciate recognition.

The Batmobile was not accustomed to being treated intelligently but immediately took a liking to being complimented. The vehicle revved its engines as if purring and followed after the humanoid bat.

Rouge kicked off the ground and stood on the air, looking down. She tried to ignore the sleek black car hovering next to her and searched the landscape below for clues. The space is so open that her sonar voice trick wasn't likely to work out here - there weren't enough obstacles for her voice to bounce off of - so she was relying on her vision.

Hrm. She'd been hoping to see a plane with a certain pilot here but she didn't. Did Sonic already know that the world was in trouble? Had fox boy already been here and left? Had those two even come here at all?

The island was large but Knuckles tended to notice visitors and he hadn't attacked yet, maybe he was somewhere underground? But the shrine for the Master Emerald was right over there and it was empty. That couldn't be good. Had the giant jewel been stolen? Or blown up? Or both? Had the Guardian left to collect the pieces? ... No. That couldn't be right. The large floating island was still airborne. The Master Emerald had to be here, somewhere, if the island was still airborne. Maybe the echidna had moved the rock? Or maybe he had found a way to hide it?

Not exactly, thinks The Master Emerald to itself while metaphorically scowling at the car. And not THAT again.

Rouge hovers for a few moments then her trained secret agent eyes pick out a trace of white in the green meadows. Rouge drops down and soon discovers a certain crater. There is a single tattered white mitten embedded into the ground at the center of this crater.

The Guardian was the only creature that Rouge knew of who wore mittens like that.

What could have happened?

Her mind races with the possibilities. Not many of them are pleasant. However the island does not reveal many clues. The crater is the only mark of struggle that Rouge can see. And her vision was better than most. But robots... Robots could scan for things that even bats with secret agent training could not see. "Oh, car?" Rouge doesn't bother flirting with the vehicle but does speak sweetly, out of habit. Although her voice is now laced with geniune distress and concern. "I don't suppose that you can detect any lifeforms on this island?"

The Batmobile consults its internal gauges, scans the island and puts up a readout on a digital screen.

Rouge leans into the window and reads the message. She blinks and reminds herself that she is dealing with a robot. "Very...complete. Thank you. But... I don't actually need to know about the native birds, insects, small mammals or myself. And the estimated number of bacteria and other microscopic organisms is...interesting...but not at all what I had in mind. Forgive me, I should have made myself clearer." Rouge makes a mental note that the car did not count itself as a lifeform but tactfully avoids raising that subject. "What I _meant_ to ask was: do you detect any human or humanoid lifeforms - other than me - on this island right now? And by 'on' I mean to include both above and under ground. If it's no trouble."

It was no trouble. Craving praise the Batmobile did a second scan, adjusted its numbers and displayed a new digital readout: No other human or humanoid lifeforms are present.

_... Does that mean Knuckles is here and dead? Or alive but gone? Was he captured? Or tricked, again? Are fox boy and the hedgehog already on their way to save him? Who would come after the Guardian and not take the Master Emerald? Not even Dr. Robotnik would leave the rock. If the rock is here, why can't I see it? How can the island be airborne if the rock isn't here? Or is this all happening because Shadow warped? If Sonic and fox boy have been here... Do they already know what's going on? Do they know why it's happening?_

As a secret agent, Rouge had always found it kind of annoying that someone as carefree as Sonic could be better informed and one step ahead. It was hard to stay annoyed. Sonic was fifteen and was apparently a self-taught warrior. He'd been through a lot, Rouge assumed. He was a veteran fighter. The blue hedgehog always seemed to know when the world was in trouble - because trouble seemed to seek him out - but he never left a job unfinished. There was a depth to his personality that came out in battle and that hardly seemed to suit him. If the Guardian had left either with Sonic or because of Sonic... And especially if the fox boy was with them... Then even if the heros didn't know why the world was currently endangered, they were probably already at work to save the world. And they had a good reputation, for being able to do that. So it was a relief and a comfort, to hope that was the case.

That would also be a lot to assume, though. And Rouge knew better than to make such broad assumptions.

"I can tell we're going to be good friends." Rouge informed the car while patting it on the roof. "Now, this may be a long shot..." Rouge sounded more concerned but is keeping her composure. She'd had a crush on Knuckles once. She'd never openly admitted to it and had grown out of that crush long ago but she still felt respect towards him. She admired his dedication to his work. She hoped that he was okay. "But do you have any way to detect magical rocks? Perhaps you could find them by scanning for disturbances in the electromagnetic fields?"

The Batmobile registers an error. The island is home to unstable magic - and also to The Master Emerald, which is currently acting as the soul of the island - so there are too many disturbances in the electromagnetic fields to count. And this is from a car that just estimated the number of resident bacteria.

Rouge takes a few cautious steps back, eyes wide. Because for one split-second... When the vehicle registered an error... She had glimpsed and recognized the outline of a chaos emerald.

The Master Emerald had suspected this and the giant gem has always been able to choose whether to attract or repel the chaos emeralds. Right now, The Master Emerald chooses to repel. The island rolls over, smoothly dumping the vehicle.

Hey, says Fate, I thought we WANTED to find the Chaos Emeralds.

Not THAT one. Grumbles the soul of the floating island.

Since when does The Master Emerald play favorites? protests Fate.

If you're allowed then so am I. Counters The Master Emerald.

The Batmobile has transformed and returns, unscathed. Hovering. This is the same car that has been able to survive falling off skyscrapers, being blown up and Batmans stunt driving in general - remember?

Rouge never left. She was in the air when the island rolled over. She stands on the air, flapping her wings and with her hands on her hips. She looks critically at the ground as the island rights itself. "Well now, is that any way to behave?" She asks the island at large - but without knowing that her words reach it and without expecting any kind of reply from it. Rouge has always been the type to have conversations with inanimate and near-inanimate objects. She has even worked with robots powered by chaos emeralds before and so has recovered from her initial surprise. "Are you all right?" She asks the most awesome professional race car in the multiverse and waits for it to flash its headlights in confirmation. "Seems to me that something doesn't want us here."

And then a plane goes by. A military plane. Flown by a human soldier. A stern but staticky voice on a loudspeaker says: "Excuse me? Do you own this island? You've got to turn it around! This is a restricted airspace and..."

Now a whole squadron of military planes go by, engines roaring and start to circle back. They appear to be armed.

The Batmobile transforms again and takes on a shape bristling with weapons.

Rouge rolls her eyes, activates the secret agent radio hidden on her costume and tunes into the military frequency. "Why, hello there." She says diplomatically, "I do hope that you boys realize that blowing up this island is an incredibly bad idea. Especially if there is anything valuable directly beneath the island that you are sincerely worried about. Causing this island to catch fire and fall out of the sky is perhaps not the best way to protect whatever the island is flying over, do you see? It is likely to crush anything that it lands on."

It takes a while for there to be any reply. The military planes keep circling.

"... Agent Rouge?" The General comes onto the radio. "Is that you?"

"Yes." She exhales in moderate relief to hear a familiar voice, "And you'd better just give this flying island clearance to go where ever it wants to. I don't know how to steer it but I'm not going to let anyone shoot it down, either."

The radio emits static for another long moment and then: "Weren't you supposed to be saving the world?"

"I'm working on it!" Rouge snaps, improvising. "And the island being intact is critical to my mission!" She adds hastily, thinking that the Guardian is going to owe her.

"We were going to use the planes to tow the island." Admits the General, sounding as if he'd rather blow the place up. "You are not flying over the ocean anymore. You're flying over a city. People are panicked, down there. And it IS a restricted airspace. So either you'd better learn how to steer the island very quickly or you're going to let us tow it."

The Master Emerald would like to see them try. The flying island remains on course.

Rouge now realizes that the island has been moving for the entire time she's been on it. And moving at a fair pace, too._ If no other lifeforms are here... Who IS steering? And where are we going? Wait. The car didn't count itself when it counted lifeforms... So... Would it count another robot? Is there a robot steering? Where would they even steer from? Does the island have a control room? I thought the shrine was... But the Master Emerald doesn't seem to be here either and... And the car has a chaos emerald inside it somehow... So... Even if there IS a robot steering from somewhere then maybe we can override..._

The formation of military planes go by again. It seems to have grown.

"Just... Back off, okay?! Give me fifteen minutes!" Rouge demands into the radio. Then she leans in the window of the sleek vehicle - the robot has no visible ears but Rouge feels like it must hear her better, when she does this - and switches back to her sweeter voice. "Oh, car? I need to do some investigating." _If there's a robot on this island, I'm going to find it... And maybe hire it._ "But if you would be so kind as to stay here and figure out a way to steer this island, I'd sure appreciate it."

The Batmobile seems to hesitate.

_Everyone wants something._ Rouge looks at the sleek black car and tries to figure out what sort of reward to offer it. She thinks of the robots working at the casino. What sorts of dreams did robots have? What types of items did they cherish? But none of the other robots that she knew were cars. Then she recalls how the car had been playing in the puddles in the forest. And then she experiences a mental collage of almost every single car commercial that she's ever seen. The types of commercials that seem to promote reckless driving in all kinds of weather and especially in areas without roads. "You were never allowed to be dirty, huh?" She soothes. "Hrm. Well I know a few places you could play. Parks and beaches and industrial wastelands. Would you like that? We just have to get this silly island back where it belongs first."

I am NOT silly. Thinks The Master Emerald, current soul of the island. And I can defend myself, thank you very much.

But why start now? remarks Fate witheringly.

I have CONTROL over all the Chaos Emeralds! Declares The Master Emerald.

Didn't we already mention that 'control' and 'chaos' are two words that clearly do not belong together? says Fate. And aren't you the one who likes for things to be consistant?

Oh... says The Master Emerald, realizing that the laws of nature have indeed changed. ...Shoot.

The floating island trembles. Five million little slivers of glowing green rock struggle with the unstable magical fields. In the space of a heartbeat, the shards twist. First there are five million tiny Slivers, the ugly monsters from the card game that look like digestive tracks with spinal chords and then there are five million little Silvers, the most traumatized humanoid hedgehog ever. And then, the shards revert to being jagged bits of a broken jewel. The glow within each piece fades. The shards turn to ash. But not to Ash.

Just like that, The Master Emerald ceases to exist.

**ooxoo**

**"A**nd that, class, is how you perform the new hands-only CPR."

A blue platypus is given a round of polite applause by a group of college students. The platypus silently takes a bow, tips his hat and leaves.

Knuckles, who had been revived, does not see this. He was understandably reluctant to open his eyes. However even if Knuckles had been in a coma on a different planet, he would probably be aware of The Master Emerald no longer existing. Being the Guardian of the rock meant being sensitive to the energy of the rock. He had a spiritual connection to the stone, it was part of his job. He'd always been able to locate The Master Emerald - or the shards of it - by detecting the energy. So abruptly not detecting that energy... In the same way that a human might notice the absence of oxygen, Knuckles felt the void. This had never happened before. Not to this scale. Knuckles had always felt a certain amount of pain and discomfort, not to mention frustration, each time The Master Emerald had ever blown up or been stolen but... Not a void. Not a profound emptiness. The void wasn't actually as fatal as a lack of oxygen would be but for Knuckles, the absence was just as alarming. He refused to believe it and just kept searching for the energy, as if he could have missed it somehow. He wasn't prepared to accept what his senses were telling him and he wasn't willing to speculate on what the hollow feeling meant but he did register the idea that something awful must have happened.

Then his brain took a moment to remind him of the type of day that he'd been having. Which wasn't easy to believe either.

Maybe he was overreacting? Perhaps everything was fine and he was just imagining...

So Knuckles opened his eyes, as if to check and see whether his recent memories were merely the result of a jumbled bad dream. His vision is blurry so it takes him a moment to recognize the college library. Mostly because he hadn't been laying on the ground the last time he saw it. A certain book is also still on the floor - though it has now been ripped into pieces - and Knuckles recoils from the scattered pages. _Did I...?_

He vaguely remembers that yes, indeed, he did destroy the library book. One handed.

A librarian issues him a bill for the damages. There are other creatures around and at this point, someone tries to help him up. Unfortunately, they do this by grabbing ahold of his broken arm. The cast - which has been signed by an entire football team - on the broken arm offers some protection but does not completely dull the senses. Knuckles is a warrior. Tense and injured, he still has strong reflexs. If anything, the pain sharpens his focus even as it further blurs his vision. So his first impulse is to snarl and pivot, turning towards the percieved attacker to catch them off balance. His healthy arm swings in the wide arc of an uppercut.

"Look out!"

A punch that could normally crush boulders is sidestepped. This leaves Knuckles as the one who's off balance - or it would, but someone still has a grip on his broken arm.

The best warriors, remember, are the ones who would rather not fight. In fact some of the very best warriors probably don't even really consider themselves warriors. It takes a rare and...special...talent to save the world by accident, after all.

"These wolverines sure are spunky critters, aren't they?" Comments the benevolent sounding owner of the grip. "I'm not even wearing my dancin shoes!"

"...errr. I don't think it wants to dance." remarks the voice of a constant skeptic.

By then Knuckles has been twirled and carried off in a foxtrot. Except that technically, it's more of a moosetrot.

FINALLY, says Fate, we start getting to the characters who can hear the narrator!

A grey humanoid squirrel that wears nothing but a pale blue aviators cap frowns at the ceiling. "Hey... You don't sound like our usual narrator."

Uhm... says Fate. Would you believe that we had to cut expenses?

"I am NOT a..." Knuckles recovers from being utterly bewildered and is about to protest being called a wolverine again. He pauses and considers this for a moment, remembering the book. Vividly. Thus he isn't certain that he wants to be an echidna anymore. Then Knuckles notices the squirrels remark. And Knuckles can't hear Fate so he isn't sure what to make of the squirrels remark. "...narrator?"

"Really? Me either! Isn't it a small world?" Remarks the moose, who is still dancing around the library. He wears white gloves and, at the moment, a red cardigan.

The squirrel is, as far as Knuckles is concerned, average height - around three and half foot. But the moose is slightly more than six foot tall. Which means that Knuckles is literally being carried. Which is not something that Knuckles is comfortable with. So he squirms out of the mooses grip and lands with both feet on the floor. _I need to get back to the island... But I don't even know how I got here... And if I can't detect The Master Emerald... Which way is home?_ "Where am I?"

"Wossamata U!" Say all the university students in the vicinity, including the moose who has kept right on dancing.

Knuckles is not in the best of moods and so therefore he does not pause to recall the logo that was on the other half of the football field, on the stadium itself and which is - even now - emblazened on the uniforms of most the university students. Including the mooses cardigan. Instead, Knuckles hears the valid reply as a separate question and gets upset. "Nothing is wrong with me! Now answer my question! What is this place? Where am I?!"

"Wossamata U!" Repeats nearly everyone in earshot.

This could take a while to be resolved.

Zoom out.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik puts down some binoculars, twitches his long mustache and indulges in an evil chuckle. He has been observing the situation for some time. "How very entertaining. I almost don't know whether to destroy them or hire them." He drums his fingers on the armrest of his chair for a moment then shrugs, takes a remote control out of his pocket and pushes a button. The chair which he is sitting in is floating and armored. Without his getting up, the armor changes configuration. Hatches open and close, panels slide. The chair becomes a tank with an oversized cannon. "When in doubt, destroy." He quips and presses a few more buttons, taking aim.

Everything he builds, works - but rarely as planned.

The cannon blasts a narrow beam of light that promptly ricochets off three university buildings, sets off the fire alarms, resets half the clocks on campus, changes the score on the stadium scoreboard, shatters a mirror, interrupts a language lesson, melts a 'Welcome to Wossamata U!' sign and alters five heavy statues. The tank, which had rolled backwards from the recoil, is now in the perfect position to not only recieve the full force of its own original attack but also to get stampeded by a wave of evacuating students screaming in a wide range of languages, run over by the wave of arriving firetrucks, flattened by a heavy statue and finally, surrounded by the better part of two football teams.

Dr. Robotnik eventually crawls out of the rubble beneath the statue.

"Why'd you change the score? We won that game fair and square!" shouts an offensive lineman who is currently not so much offensive as offended. "You sayin that we're losers?"

"You sayin that we need pity? You think we can't win without help?" shouts a defensive lineman from the other team who is also offended. "Or are you callin us cheaters?"

"Uh..."

The clocks that have been reset choose this moment to strike the incorrect hour.

A referee whistle can be heard once the clocks have finished making a racket. "Personal foul! Fifteen yard penalty! Repeat the play!"

**ooxoo**

**"T**urning to the weather, as you can clearly see, there's a slight chance of rain in the city tonight. There is also a risk of being crushed by a giant floating island that, for reasons unknown, has decided to stop floating. More on that later. For now, back to headlines." Said a weatherman standing outdoors. Because they always seemed to be standing outdoors at times like this. The city could be under strict orders that all citizens should absolutely stay inside for their own health and safety - and they'd still have a weatherman doing the reports outdoors.

"Excuse me?" A pink hedgehog reached up, tugged at the weathermans sleeve and did her best impersonation of a certain polite rabbit that she knew. "May I borrow that microphone for just a few moments? Oh and maybe some of those from the van as well? Thank you so much." She left the sight of the cameras with an armload of microphones.

The sky above was crowded with struggling planes of all sizes. A tangled web of strong cables sprouted from the island.

Spiderman would probably be here, if he wasn't busy making a musical.

Rouge was here instead. She was not aware of the news coverage below. She could barely think. There was so much noise up here right now. All the roars of the jet engines. The planes had launched grappling hooks and had managed to get a grip on the island but even with more planes joining the struggle every moment... It was all they could do to keep the island airborne. They weren't towing it away, as they'd hoped. The no-longer-floating island was large and not a lightweight. The cables were creaking with the strain and once in a while, with a horrible sizzling echo, a cable would break. Her secret agent radio was nothing but static and heated arguments between humans of different ranks.

The human military had the ability to vaporize the island.

Rouge couldn't blame the humans for salvaging weapons from Dr. Robotniks burned-out bases. She understood that the humans were frightened. That the human military didn't like having to rely on animal warriors to defend them. They'd felt so helpless, in past battles. This was why the government had never arrested Robotnik for very long. Robotnik built better things when he was free - and the military could learn from him, borrow and tweak his ideas. Even collect objects from the ruins of his bases. When those objects didn't just spontaneously blow up or disappear, at any rate. But building their arsenal this way... It also blurred the lines, didn't it?

There were ethical concerns. The weapons had been invented by a madman bent on conquering the world. Now they were being used by the government. Was it right to steal other peoples ideas? Could a weapon designed by a madman ever be used for good? That was the current debate. Shadow might have seemed a shining example of the weapon being able to change - but he was a living weapon. He had a mind, damaged though it was. These giant cannons and large guns and so forth... They didn't have minds. They were just weapons. The weapons had been designed for evil and people were concerned that no matter how good the intentions of the user were, the weapons would remain evil. Such power could corrupt.

Plus the weapons had been salvaged and repaired - but not tested. Would it be smart, to try and use them over a populated area? What if the weapons worked? Would they only vaporize the island? Or might they accidentally vaporize the city as well? But what if the weapons didn't work? The city would still get crushed. Should the government promise to save the city when they weren't sure if they could keep such a promise? Was it right to give people false hope?

False hope was better than no hope, perhaps.

_Now I'm starting to sound like Shadow..._ Rouge made a face at that and wished, not for the first time, that she had an instruction manual for robots. The sleek black car was not taking orders. The island contained a wide range of geography and no roads. The car, having noticed this, was now happily zooming around as if it were making its own commercial. Rouge would have preferred for the car to be helping but what could it do? She didn't know. The car had some transformations but maybe saving a floating island was beyond its abilities. Or maybe it didn't care about floating islands. With a chaos emerald inside the car, that was an interesting thought. Anyway. Rouge wasn't too worried for the car. She wasn't too worried for herself either - she could fly away from the island and would, if it came to that. But she did want to save the island, if possible. She just wasn't sure how. _Where's a hedgehog when you need one?_

A new texture gradually worked its way into the noise.

Rouge turned off her radio and paid attention. _...a piano?_

A small yellow bird appeared near the rim of the island. The bird itself was awkward to see - it had a large beak and thin feathers - but the most noticable thing about the creature was that it was comfortably perched on a music note. The sound was visible.

_Hrm. _Rouge went to the edge, careful to stay away from the waves of turbulance and heat coming off the jet engines and peered down.

The sky over the city and beneath the island had taken on the appearance of sheet music. From this height it was hard to make out who or what was at work down there, to arrange the unique shield. Maybe Sonic? Maybe the fox boy? Maybe the Guardian? And where was the music coming from? Were any of them musicians? Rouge didn't know but kind of doubted it. She felt that the world ending was sort of her fault though and she did feel a smidge guilty about that. So even though this was certainly not a plan that she would have thought of or expected to be a part of... Rouge knew that she had the speed to help. But shielding the city... It was admirable and heroic, to defend the city but it wasn't a long-term solution. However... If the music could be used to shield the city then it could probably - hopefully - also be used to support the island.

_Why am I the only one who thinks of these things? Hmf. Guess it's up to me. _Rouge stepped off the island, dove down, seized a piece of music, dragged it across the sky, pulled it up and fastened it to a series of cables. The cables held. The music seemed to be reinforcing them. Rouge smirked, dove down to repeat this pattern of actions and became, in a sense, a page turner for a classical master.

**ooxoo**

**T**ails skidded to a stop and caught his breath, having narrowly avoided yet another illogical disaster. He was a bit upset. _I am smarter than this!_

If he chased Sonic - for the kitsune still assumed that's who he was chasing - then strange things kept happening. If he didn't chase Sonic... Then Sonic chased him and even stranger things happened. None of it made sense. He'd followed Sonic for years and... And okay, so even when Sonic had been a hedgehog and not a tall bird - strange things had happened from following the warrior. But not THIS often. And Sonic had never summoned trains or anvils or deliberately destroyed a workshop or caused a plane crash. And the plane hadn't been even remotely nuclear powered, so why had there been a mushroom cloud? Tails just did not understand that.

Maybe this wasn't Sonic, after all? Or if this was Sonic then perhaps the blue hero was not in his right mind. It was worrying, either way. Something had to be done.

Tails knew how to keep pace with his best friend. He even knew how to catch his best friend - he'd had to do it a few times before. Sometimes the only way to get Sonics attention was to catch him. But keeping pace these days tended to require a jet. And catching Sonic... Traps were not practical. Sonic could run through traps before they'd even had a chance to go off and Sonic could spin through most other obstacles. Tails had needed to develop weapons that could track heat signatures just to be able to stun his friend, when necessary. And all of these kinds of things required a workshop. Which Tails didn't currently have access to. He was in the middle of a desert.

Some part of his brain was already doing blueprints for giant catapults that could be made using nothing but local materials. Tails rejected these ideas as primitive. He'd crashed one plane - but he had others. He'd escaped from one underground workshop - and would have to go back there later - but he had a couple more. He'd done a lot of building, during the times of peace and had never regretted having backups in times of conflict. He just had to get to those backups.

Or build even more of them.

Tails experimented with the air. Normally, his tools followed him and he could pull parts out of nowhere. These skills did not seem to be currently working. Was it the environment? How to get out of the desert?

He had a watch. It had several other functions but perhaps the most important was a communications radio. Sonic had traveled the world making friends and allies - but Tails was the one who had built the network, to keep in touch with everyone. And unlike so many of his proud warrior friends, who often wanted to try and do things on their own, the kitsune knew when to ask for help.

_Don't be broke..._ Tails checked the radio and winced. It was broke. He'd not been wearing his gloves when all this started and hadn't had the chance to put them on. The gloves usually protected his wrists as well as his hands. The watch might have survived in better condition, if he'd had the armor. _So I have to get out of the desert just to repair the watch?_

A tall thin patch of shade indicated that a certain bird was standing right behind him.

Tails had a crazy idea. He knew that it was a crazy idea. He tried it out anyway. Years of growing up around Sonic had taught him a few things about speed. So the kitsune moved with such speed as he could manage. First, he tried to wrap himself around the birds feet - but the bird was too strong for that to work - and then he ended up curling into ball and spinning away from the bird and then he launched himself into the air and reversed direction and pounced... There was a comical cloud of rotating dust, with an occasional kitsune tail or long orange leg sticking out of it.

And when the comical dust cleared, Tails had ended up - much to the surprise of both creatures - sitting lopsidedly on the Roadrunners back.

"I really did not expect that work." Tails muttered. He tried to secure his grip with both hands, feet and tails. "Okay... Now... Sonic? Or whatever you might be? Listen..."

The Roadrunner was not listening but was still grinning. If this kid wanted a ride... So be it. Luxury car commercials might brag about how a vehicle could go from zero to sixty in under five seconds. The Roadrunner could go from zero to the speed of sound in less than four. Tails was going to be on a different continent before his scream even became audible here.

**ooxoo**

**A**my Rose was guarding a stack of microphones and watching the music rise into the evening sky. _What would Sonic do?_ had entered her mind but not until _Is Knuckles completely out of his skull?!_ had been thoroughly explored.

Honestly though, the interruption had nearly been a welcome one.

Amy Rose was standing on a modest outdoor stage decorated by flowers. This was a concert in the citys botanical gardens. Her parents had been so elated for her to have a new job that they had gotten off work early to attend. Her Mom and Dad... They worked such odd hours and sometimes, they worked double shifts. Amy Rose lived with them and she hardly ever saw them. She usually had the house to herself before and after school. She talked to her parents every day, on the phone and they left each other written notes around the apartment but... She wasn't used to seeing them. Now they were both were out in the audience, sitting front and center. It was hard not to see them. Schroeder had gotten them tickets for the best seats, right next to his own folks.

So when Amy had stepped onto the stage and had leaned on the piano... Well. She was the most abnormal one, of her elite friends. So, no surprise, she'd gotten stage fright.

Maybe if her parents hadn't been there - she loved and respected her family but knew they were sick of hearing about her galactic-scale crush - then she would have found the words but maybe not. Amy had always imagined getting up on a stage and telling the world how she felt. Imagining it and actually doing it were two very different things, though. With the possible exception of Cream, who was polite and wouldn't tease her too much... Amy wasn't accustomed to having an audience that was sincerely prepared to listen to her. And she was thirteen. Which meant that she was slightly concerned about what others might think of her. She had to live in this city, after all. She had to put up with classmates and citizens. She already had to stand up for Sonic on a daily basis. If everyone else teased her and questioned her judgement as well then it would make her life miserable.

And what if she HAD found the words? What if someone had listened and agreed with her? If she told the whole world how amazing Sonic was... Would others fall in love with him? Amy couldn't blame anyone who did, of course. Especially not if it was her songs that created the interest. But it wasn't as if she could catch Sonic now. Inviting competition wouldn't be an improvement.

For better or worse, Amy hadn't found the words. She had faced the audience and inwardly frozen. She loved Sonic so much that she didn't know where to begin, what to say. She wasn't even sure if she could put it all into words. There might not be enough words. _... I wonder if that's why Beethoven didn't write lyrics for his music?_ Amy thought. If all forms of music were essentially about love then even the music without words was likely to share that theme, wasn't it? Maybe instrumental music was for the kinds of love that words couldn't do justice to?

Amy Rose wasn't sure and made a mental note to ask her new boss later. Schroeder seemed to be an expert on all things musical and especially on all things Beethoven. He also seemed to be absolutely unshakeable in the face of disaster.

When the floating island had arrived, coming in from the harbor and looming over the city skyline and blotting out the stars... That had saved Amy Rose from standing awkwardly on stage, trying not to see her parents - they had kept waving to her - and feeling doomed. Well. She still felt doomed. Her previous intuition about Sonic not being all right had returned and, in her mind, Knuckles now also made the list of definitely not all right. He couldn't be. He sure as heck wouldn't be, if this was some kind of lame joke. But it didn't seem to be.

Knuckles might have a sense of humor but Amy hadn't really seen it. And the Guardian had always been strict about his work. He'd chosen to live in isolation for reasons of security. He'd never shown any interest in parking the island over land before, much less over a densely populated area - that would draw too much attention. If Knuckles wanted to draw attention to the place that he guarded for a living, something had to be incredibly wrong. And the island was no longer remaining airborne independently, so something must be up with The Master Emerald as well. If that didn't spell trouble then what did? Amy Rose had been prepared to panic.

But Schroeder, without ever leaving the piano or pausing the recital, had only asked if she knew where there was a phone.

It had taken a whispered conference to convince Schroeder that her mobile phone was in fact a phone - the phones of his former hometown had apparently looked very different - but then he'd asked her to dial a number. So Amy Rose had spent a few bewildered moments speaking with a boy named Linus, who had politely reassured her that the world could not possibly be ending because someone named Charlie Brown had not yet won a baseball game. That had been good enough for Schroeder. He could have cancelled the concert but even if the world HAD been ending, by his standards, he might not have cancelled the concert. Schroeders indirect ancestors may have been among those who went down with the Titanic without missing a beat. Schroeder loved music. Perhaps as much as Amy loved Sonic.

And thank goodness for that, the music was saving the city.

She'd never noticed the music being visible around Schroeder before but the music being visible didn't seem to startle him. Maybe this was how he always viewed the world? Maybe sharing the vision didn't happen all the time? How convenient, that it was happening now. And even when she'd first seen the music... Amy had thought that it was her imagination - something that she was seeing and that nobody else saw. Then the music had scrolled out and pushed her away from the piano. And then that little yellow bird had come along and perched in it.

It gave audio-visual a whole new meaning, really.

People had caught on quickly. Most of the audience was gone and they'd taken the music with them. The citizens were eager not to be crushed. They were spreading the news and carrying the music with them, stretching the shield. It was a strange but beautiful way to try and save a place.

Amy Rose had done her part by gathering the stack of microphones, to amplify the sound. She knew that guarding Schroeder and the piano were important roles to have but as she looked up to the island and the struggling fleet of jets, she felt a deep pang of worry. _I wonder if Sonic is there. I wonder if they're fighting. Maybe they need help?_

The music was strong enough to support a bird. The music was solid enough to shield the city. And with that in mind, the answer to 'what would Sonic do?' involved running and climbing up the music. But Sonic was faster than Amy Rose. She didn't have the speed to tread air. She was hesitant to step into the sky. Even if the music could support her... She doubted that she could run the distance without looking down. It was a long way up to the island. She couldn't fly. What if she fell? And the music... Someone was pulling it up. _Are they netting the island?_ The music was steep, it would be a vertical climb in some places. Sonic wouldn't have been slowed by such things but Amy Rose knew that she would be.

So... The fastest way to the island for Amy Rose might involve finding an open skyscraper with a working elevator and then leaping from the roof of that building onto the music and... That didn't sound safe at all. Of course she was willing to risk everything, in order to help Sonic but she didn't even know if Sonic was up there and if she fell to her death before getting to the island then she wouldn't be helping anyone. Maybe staying on the ground was the best thing? No. The worry persisted and made her restless. There had to be another way. If she could just get ahold of a plane or maybe even a car...

A twinkling of movement along the musical notes. A sleek black car, almost invisible in the twilight, is riding the sounds.

The list of things that Amy Rose couldn't possibly have seen got a new entry.

_Does that mean Tails is here?_ She pauses, admiring the car. _Wow. I have got to be nicer to that kid. I could probably catch Sonic in something like that._ She takes her phone from a clip on her belt and dials, hoping to get a ride but all she gets is an answering machine. _He builds all this communication equipment and doesn't communicate._ Amy Rose reluctantly put the phone away without leaving a message. Tails was okay but he hardly ever checked his messages and he never seemed to return her calls. Whether or not Sonic had influenced that behavior, Amy sincerely did not know. She was willing to believe that they were both very busy - and shy.

A whirling streak of light and dark went past overhead.

_That wasn't..._ Amy Rose hid her disappointment. She recognized the blur - it was just not who she would have liked to have seen. Amy wasn't fond of the bat but she was even less fond of being left out. "HEY!"

Rouge paused in the air. The music she'd been dragging whirled past her. Rouge frowned. Her entire stance and expression said: 'Ugh. Not YOU.' so clearly that she didn't even have to say it aloud.

"Thanks for helping to save the city!" Amy Rose smiled, striking a confident pose. She didn't know Rouge very well but knew this would annoy the bat. She also knew that if Rouge had stopped at all - as opposed to just ignoring her - then something was up. "Mind telling me what's going on?"

"Sorry little girl, I don't have time to chat." Rouge retracted her wings, crossed her arms and prepared to move on. She didn't curl in a ball to spin. She spun by twirling. If Sonics standard move could be considered a horizontal spin, Rouge had a vertical spin. It would have broken every bone in her body and especially in her wings to spin any other way. On the ground, Rouge had her kickboxing for defense. In the air... Her best attack seemed a touch more girly. She rotated like a ballerina though the sky - but a ballerina who could pick up speed and do mind-boggling amounts of damage to anything that got in her way. Rouge called her twirling air attack a spear but with speed, it could take on the appearance of a short funnel cloud. And like any good mini tornado, she could also carry or drag things with the attack. Including a load of classical music. Which was what she'd been doing. This was much more efficient than just grabbing a few handfuls of music at a time. "And I'm not saving the city because of you."

"Who are you saving the city for, then? Or are you saving _the island _for someone?" Amy shouted after the departing whirlwind. "And are you threatened by the fact that I'm younger than you or something? Why?!"

It would be wrong to say that there was silence since there was Beethoven.

"I just don't understand her..." grumbled Amy Rose.

"Unrequited love, nine times out of ten." remarked Schroeder without looking up.

"You think so?" Amy said but in a way that let the subject drop. It wouldn't be wise to pause the music. _Hrm. So Rouge is here. And that car... If not Tails then Ivo._ She had been kidnapped often enough to be on a first name basis with the evil genius. _But probably Tails. So Shadow and maybe Sonic have got to be... And if Knuckles is up there, he's got to be insane by now._ Amy Rose turned towards the piano. _Wish I could take him with me and continue to guard him but he can't leave, can he? He's generating the music so he probably can't run up it, right? That would disrupt the whole...rhythm. And taking him into battle would almost definitely not be good for the music, either. My friends... Maybe they don't need me up there... But I want to make sure they're okay... And Schroeders parents are here and so are mine... They'll make sure he gets home safe, I bet. If the city doesn't get crushed. Maybe it would be okay to leave?_

Amy Rose took a deep breath, told herself that she had to be brave or Sonic would never like her and hopped up onto the music. She was now standing a couple feet above the piano and felt that she ought to say something. "Uh... I've got to go. Sorry that I wasn't a very good piano-leaner."

"First day, new job." Schroeder did not shrug because that would have thrown off his music but he spoke in way that indicated that it was not a big deal. "I wasn't born playing like this, you know. It takes practice. At least you had the courage to try. See you in school?"

"Er. Yea. Maybe not right away, though. Uhm. Tell my parents bye for me, please. I don't know when I'll be able to call them." Expecting conflict ahead, Amy Rose reached for the worlds most destructive mallet.

Instead, she got a horseshoe. _What?_ She concentrated, reached again and got another horseshoe. _Oh no... Not right now..._

A small yellow bird fluttered down and perched on her headband.

Amy Rose didn't notice, she was too distressed by the absence of her hammer. This had never happened to her before. She'd never really understood how the hammer worked and so she wasn't sure how to fix it. The mallet was bigger than her yet she had always been able to carry and wield it without strain. And she wasn't magical - pulling things out of thin air was a semi-mundane skill in this world of unstable magical fields, especially for the animals who didn't have natural pockets in their skin. Extra especially for the children. Kids tended to grow out of the skill as they became adults. Thus Amy Rose had expected for her hammer to disappear eventually but not so soon! Was she an adult already? She didn't feel any different. And it wasn't fair! She was only thirteen! She'd taken some boxing lessons - boxercise, to be precise - but how could she defend Sonic without... And why a horseshoe, of all things?

There were some animals, like kitsunes, who had lore and higher levels of natural magic. Those creatures could pull more than one type of object out of the thin air. But Amy Rose had only ever pulled the hammer. And the hammer had always appeared, when she reached for it and disappeared, when she released it. Which was convenient and about as logical as anything else, in this world. Yes, she had expected to grow out of the skill. She had expected to lose the mallet as she aged - which was part of why she'd wanted to catch up to Sonic so urgently. She'd been hoping to catch up to her blue hero before losing the hammer. How could she impress Sonic, without the mallet? Pulling the hammer... It was one of the only things, Amy thought, that she could do and that Sonic couldn't do. Although he probably couldn't pull horseshoes out of thin air either.

Amy Rose wasn't going to settle for this.

Her new dress had short sleeves. There was no need to roll them up. Amy did anyway, the gesture was symbolic of her determination. Not wanting to give up and for lack of better ideas, she reached one more time. The small bird on her head was named Woodstock. He ruffled his thin feathers and attempted to live up to the reference in his name. Amy Rose was not aware of the birds subtle psychedelic influence on the dimensions but she pulled something out of thin air. And stared.

_A baseball bat?_

It wasn't a horseshoe, at least.

The horrible sizzling echo of a cable snapping reached the city. A plane roared upwards and away from the pack, released from the struggle.

It has taken her a while to make the decision but once made, she acted on it. There was no going back. Amy Rose closed her eyes and ran up the music, towards the island. She hoped that she could make it without looking - or falling - down. The baseball bat... It wasn't a mallet but it would have to do, for now.

**ooxoo**

**E**spio had a unique problem. He loved his current job but he was a light sleeper. As a devoted warrior and aspiring ninja master... It had seemed practical to cultivate high levels of alertness. Being more sensitive to sound and energy vibrations meant that enemies would have a harder time sneaking up on you, after all. Not that sneaking up on a chameleon was an easy task to begin with but... There was always room for improvement, right? Espio had sincerely thought so. He'd never expected the hard-earned improvements to backfire on him. His over-alertness had never posed a serious problem, back at the detective agency - since they'd rarely had real detective work to pursue - or on the island, living in isolation. But to go from that to living and working in a building which contained a casino, a nightclub and an arcade... Meant constant noise. And, for a light sleeper, hardly any sleep.

Being disciplined and semi-stoic was part of being a warrior, yes. Being a mental-near-robot was not. Espio had feelings and opinions, he was just too tired to dwell on them much. He might have noticed Rouge more, if he hadn't been so tired. But he was kind of avoiding the bat since he half expected to be fired at any given moment. If she couldn't find him then she couldn't fire him, right?

He wasn't aware of the fact that Rouge liked him.

Perhaps it was just as well. Life was strange enough, without that. Espio had recently become aware of how strange. Watching the news on television had woken him up a bit.

"Why am I the only one who watches the news anymore?!" Espio exclaimed.

Getting Vectors attention had required turning off the power for the entire nightclub. Getting Charmys attention had not been much easier. Vector meant well but the lanky crocodile may have been born wearing a set of headphones, he was never seen without them and always had the volume turned up. Charmy generally had the attention span of an insect. Which was appropriate, given that the kid was a bee, but still annoying.

They wore more clothes than the average male animals. Vector had black boots, white gloves, a gold necklace and weighted wristbands in addition to his headphones. Charmy favored the color orange and wore it on his shoes, jacket and helmet with goggles but also wore the standard white gloves. Espio himself was the least dressed and for good reason. All of his clothes had to be special ordered because he couldn't wear just anything. It wouldn't do him any good, as a chameleon, to buy clothes that failed to blend in with the rest of him. He'd learned that the hard way. Walking around invisible, except for the boots and gloves and weapon-loaded wristbands... Even if all his friends forgot about that moment - and they weren't likely to - Espio would probably never get over being embarrassed by it.

"We're not detectives anymore. News is kinda depressing." Vector put his feet up on a coffee table and flicked his tail. "And have you heard the background music? Real repetative."

"You have been super grumpy lately, you know that?" Charmy yawned with drooping antenna - holes had been cut into his helmet so that the antenna could stick though - since being still for more than ten seconds bored him. "Did Mecha tie your tail in a knot again?"

Employing robots was great for the casino but not so great for Espio. Because even when he was in camouflage, blending in seamlessly... The robots could scan for him, find him and report to him. More than once, they'd blown his cover. Most of the time, this was accidental - the robots didn't realize that they were doing anything wrong. The guard robots simply didn't have that level of intelligence. But Mecha... Shadow was not the only one who had a rivalry with that smug robot.

"... That is not the point!" Scowled Espio and he was eighteen so he was old enough to have some creative thoughts about what should happen to robots that deliberately snuck up on sleep-deprived chameleons. "Look!"

They were gathered in the sound room of the nightclub, so there were computers available. Vector used them to edit music, videos and light effects. The crocodile had never been all that computer literate before this job but as soon as the computers had been associated with music, he'd taken more interest and had caught on. However these computers could also be used to surf the internet and watch, for example, live streaming newscasts.

A weatherperson was standing outside in a distant city with a rather dramatic scene going on. "As you can see, the International Weather Service has issued a severe Beware of Falling Rocks advisory for the residents of..."

Vector and Charmy exchanged glances with each other and then both looked to their resident ninja - or what was visible of him. From their points of view, they were having a conversation with an Espio-shaped patch of casino wallpaper.

It was always just the wallpaper, never the carpet. Espio was a ninja and a chameleon - he could stand on the floor but why should he? He had the ability to treat walls and ceilings as if they were the floor. Which was a very useful skill for the head of security. The walls were his preferred sidewalk. Espio rarely spent much time on the floor these days and only spent time on the ceiling if he was literally changing the lightbulbs around the casino which he got paid extra to do. And even when he was on the floor or the ceiling, he was usually visible as a patch of Espio-shaped wallpaper. Instead of fading to himself, the humanoid chameleon was slowly changing camouflage to blend with the nightclub decor. Espio didn't seem to realize that the reason he so often failed to get his friends attention was because he was - sometimes - too good at blending in.

"And the International Music Service has also issued an extreme Atmospheric Beethoven warning for the surrounding counties of..." continues the weatherperson standing outside in a distant city on the live streaming newscast.

"Why are you worried? That's not happening here." said Vector.

Espio had to take a few deep breaths and do some calming mental chants in order to resist the impulse to pull a giant shuriken, the ninja throwing star, out of thin air. "We used to LIVE on that island, remember? Knuckles took us in when we got kicked out of the detective office, yes? Because you always forgot to pay the electric bill. And the rent. Remember? So we kind of owe Knuckles, right? We should maybe go and see if he needs some help? That would be honorable."

"Why would he need help, to crash the island?" said Charmy with a twitch of his antenna. He could get away with these sorts of snide remarks because he was young and people were never sure if he was geniunely confused. For the record, he wasn't often confused.

"How is skipping out on our jobs honorable?" Vector added.

"ARGH!" A patch of Espio-shaped wallpaper stormed out of the room.

Silence, to the muffled beat of a nightclub.

"That has got to be a record."

Vector and Charmy grinned and high-fived each other, which might have been an interesting sight to outsiders because Vectors hand was bigger than Charmys head. They both respected Espio but also kind of enjoyed getting on his nerves every once in a while. This was how they showed their concern. Espio was so serious all the time... It couldn't be healthly. If they could just get the ninja to smile... Or scream 'argh!' and stomp away, at least. Some emotion still counted as progress.

Truth be told, if Mecha was smugly putting occasional knots in the chameleons tail then Mecha had probably been dared and/or bribed to do so by these two.

It was a strange set of circumstances that had brought the trio of friends together. Vector could be a rough warrior to deal with but his temper had mellowed with age and he had always had a weakness for charitable acts. As a detective, he'd done a lot of work for free. Granted - most of the cases had been stuff like helping kids find their lost toys and helping senior citizens remember where they'd parked their cars... Not exactly high-profile or high-risk work. But it was work that mattered to people and so Vector had done it. He had been in a band before becoming a detective and he'd gone broke doing that, as well. Giving free concerts.

Charmy had attended one of those concerts. The kid... Yes, the little bee had a hyperactive mischievous streak and he did have, as Rouge had once put it 'quite a mouth on him' but it was hard to imagine... No. No. Correction. Actually, it wasn't THAT hard to imagine what might have happened. Charmy was a fugitive - he'd been kicked out of his own country. Or maybe he'd just run away from home. Or maybe some combination of both. The details were hard to be certain of because the kid had an active imagination, he'd never told the same story twice. But just like a certain blue hedgehog, who had taken in an orphaned orange kitsune... Vector could not have left the bee child to fend for himself. With the permission of the other band members, Charmy had joined the band. And when all the other band members had split and gone their own ways, Charmy had remained.

Espio had come along later and had tried to leave the group a few times since.

Not so much after their adventures saving the world, though.

Vector was tough but he had not forgotten those battles. Charmy was hyperactive but even he drew the line somewhere. Saving the world - they were glad that they'd done it, yea. But it was stressful work. And it didn't pay very well. And there were better qualified warriors, they knew. They'd seen those heros in action. Up close. Vector essentially lived in the nightclub these days so he'd noticed that Rouge was out. She usually came down to the nightclub for breakfast around opening time - and the lady who owned the casino could call it breakfast, no matter when she ordered the meal - and sometimes she chatted about business. She was really a pretty sweet kid, if you could look past her tendancy to bend the law and inflict mind-boggling amounts of damage on anyone who upset her. Anyway. Rouge hadn't come down today. That meant she had to be working and probably on secret stuff.

And Shadow... Charmy was the unofficial number one fan of the dark hedgehog and Mecha was the number one anti-fan so... Yea. The casinos staff-in-residence had noticed Shadows absence as well.

If Shadow and Rouge were both out... And if Knuckles had not merely gone insane... Then that made three. So between those three, Vector assumed, the world would probably be fine. Because there were at least four other skilled warriors out there - including a rabbit not much older than Charmy - who were likely to join in, if things got dire.

Why get in the way? Why not let them handle things? It wasn't like Vector was being paid to investigate, he wasn't a detective anymore. He wasn't a PI anymore. He was a DJ. He was being paid to stay right the heck here and keep the tunes coming. It was a job that he loved. And besides, the city where the floating island was creating a panic... That location was not nearby. Getting there might take a while, even if they left right away. And they couldn't leave right away because they didn't have a vehicle.

Vector had owned a vehicle, in the past but the landlord had seized it after he'd missed the rent on the office one too many times.

Rouge had once owned a private fleet of vehicles. Shadow had stolen and lost the motorcycle. Vector had, on a dare, attempted to fly the airplane and would still argue that any crash you could walk away from counted as a landing. Mecha had blown up, repaired, fallen in love with and then legally married the car. So you couldn't really ask to borrow the robots car because that would be akin to committing adultery, in some skewed way.

And even though they were kind-of-friends with Mecha these days... Mecha was a robotic hedgehog, he'd been built in the image of Sonic. Originally it had been Mechas goal to destroy Sonic. Mecha had been defeated and then repaired. The robot had gained independence and had then come up with some goals of his own. It was sort of hard to forget about the time when he'd transformed into a giant metallic dragon and endangered the planet. He'd been defeated _again_ and repaired _again_, somehow and potentially by someone with a thick skull, anyway. And then Rouge had hired him. She'd probably raided some classified information archives in order to locate the robot. Mecha had been living and working at the casino ever since.

Vector, Charmy, Rouge, Shadow - and even Espio. This group knew the value of second chances. They'd all had second chances. Some of them had gone back for third and fourth chances, as well. Some of them were into double digits, when it came to chances. Charmy might be into triple digits. So they were willing - some far more than others - to give Mecha the benefit of the doubt. Especially since he was married, now. And the employee of the month - _again_ - for managing the poker tables to record profits. And Mecha hadn't even talked about wanting to conquer the world, lately. But...

Robot or no... It just wasn't wise, to underestimate the destructive abilities of a male hedgehog in this world.

"We'd have to leave Mecha in charge of the casino." Vector turned in his chair and adjusted a few knobs on a soundboard console. "If we went, I mean."

In an arcade, there were two main jobs and Charmy did them both. He had become so good at winning the games that he could make it look easy - and that was job number one. Because as long as winning the prizes looked easy, other people would voluntarily empty their wallets to try and win as well. And if these customers did happen to get a few tokens, they'd take them to a prize counter. And then Charmy, doing his second job, would happily present them with a prize that probably wouldn't have cost them hardly anything, in the outside world. So like the casino, the arcade was a showcase on the lessons - and expenses - of pride. Charmy was not likely to rank as a genius anywhere but he had noticed. He was good at learning from other peoples mistakes.

"Ha! Why should we go?" Charmy darted around the room as he spoke, chasing his own shadow. This lead the kid to think of someone that he idolized. And Mecha did not get along with that someone. "What if Shadow comes back? If Mecha was in charge and we weren't here..."

"They'd tear the place apart." Vector grimaced and put on a different song. The night was just getting started, he was waiting for the crowd to come in before he stepped out to do some live mixing at the turntables.

Nowadays, the casino was home. Vector felt a duty to protect his home. They couldn't go back to the detective agency, the landlord had kicked them out and blacklisted them. They couldn't go back to the floating island because the floating island seemed to be ground zero for the current disaster. Yes, Knuckles was a good friend and it had been downright sweet of the Guardian to take them in - but they owed some loyalty to Rouge now too, didn't they? And if Rouge was out there, she was a big girl. She could take care of herself. But she wouldn't have to, if things got bad. It wasn't a secret that Rouge was a secret agent. The government would back her up, if nothing else. The military was already on the scene. Vector had noticed the jets struggling to keep the island airborne. So any heros at the island - they already had support.

Why get in the way? Rouge would sincerely want her employees to stay put and take care of the casino. And the casino was home.

Charmy either couldn't go back home or just didn't want to return to his country of origin. Vector found living in the city more stimulating than the swamps of his childhood. And Espio... All they really knew about the chameleons past was that someone must have gotten him started on the ninjitsu and he despised Dr. Eggman. The chameleon had never explained precisely why he felt such intense loathing for the mad scientist but it wasn't a subject that seemed worth asking about. Plenty of creatures in this world were not fans of the resident evil genius. It had taken the former detectives saving the world together to earn the ninjas full trust and so not even Charmy, who was blunt to the point of rudeness on a regular basis, had broached the subject.

They didn't like to disagree with their friend or upset him and risk losing that trust but... Espio would have to get over it.

Saving the world wasn't meant to be a full-time occupation, right? Okay, so Sonic managed it somehow but Sonic was the exception. Vector felt that saving the world... Most people didn't get the chance to do that even once in their lives, probably. Why should he hog all the opportunities?

It was like... Luck, yea? That's how Vector framed the topic, in his mind. If the same group of people won the lottery all the time - was that fair? No. That was whatcha called rigged. And so if the same warriors had to save the planet all the time - was that fair? No. Why should the same little group have to do all the work? Didn't anyone else want to be a hero? The heros were meant to represent the population at large, weren't they? So if the population at large did nothing... If nobody else wanted to save the world then why should the heros bother? And if the planet was going to get into the habit of being endangered frequently then why not step back and let a few others learn the skills? The more creatures who learned, the better - right? Let someone else have a turn. Sonic would likely be there to show any newcomers the ropes and at least Knuckles, Rouge and Shadow were probably already there as well.

Maybe the world would even stay safe for a while after this, who knew. Or was that too much to expect?

Vector would bend over backwards to help kids find their toys and senior citizens locate their cars. He still tried to arrange free concerts. He didn't mind stuff like that, the small kindnesses. But when you saved the world so often that people took you for granted even when you were risking everything... Was that a true kindness, to the world? Or were you promoting some sort of global ignorance and false sense of security?

He didn't know. Vector listened to his music, where these kinds of issues were mentioned often in the lyrics yet it wasn't something that he dwelled on. He had been a detective once and still had some professional curiousity but... He was thinking more clearly than he'd done, as a youngster. The crowd was arriving at the nightclub. He couldn't let them down. Vector truly loved being a DJ. Life was good. Why risk a job that let him tap into his passion? Why risk his home? Why put himself in immediate danger? And Charmy could fend for himself but the bee was like an adopted little brother. Vector felt responsible for the kid. He wasn't going to drag the kid into battle. Not again. He'd never wanted to do that, in the first place.

And they didn't have a way to get there, anyway.

Then a red double decker bus pulled up outside.

**ooxoo**

**W**hat does it take to be the British Governments top secret agent? What sort of creature could be so incredibly skilled that James Bond, if he'd gotten a clue, might not have even minded being the decoy?

Every country had their pride, their own ways of showing off. In Japan, if you're going to build a computer then it had better be so darned amazing that even people who are literally allergic to technology will wait in line for a week without complaining just for the chance to buy it. In America, if you're going to build a stadium then it had better be able to seat half the country and have televisions larger than some houses and... That sort of thing. For Britain, an area of pride was soccer.

And now ladies and gentleman, says Fate, allow me to introduce you to the pride of The British Dimension. Yes. There is now officially a British Dimension. The Hundred Acre Woods arriving should have been a clue, that location is originally British. And Christopher Robin may eventually choose to rock the pokemon world but he is not a secret agent.

No one can debate that the Brits do love their soccer. However, more relevantly to this story, an area of particular British pride was secret agents. Britain had always claimed the very best secret agent. And James Bond - British though he could be, if the right actor was hired - was the decoy.

And so it was a bit strange because currently, their very best agent hadn't even been born in Britain. No. He'd been born halfway up Mount Everest. Being an infant and significantly less than a foot tall had not prevented him from reaching the summit, on his own, a few hours later. Britain had immediately adopted him. He'd been educated in all the formal styles of martial arts, had graduated from at least six different highly regarded colleges and spoke so many languages fluently that he could travel the universe without needing a translator.

He was such a well kept secret - which was rather unusual, even among secret agents - that his codename had a codename.

He was also a humanoid mouse.

And Cream was not impressed with his driving skills.

To be fair, though, he was not accustomed to being this size. As an adult, he lived in a pillarbox - the British term for 'mail box' - and had not changed much in appearance or height since birth. The mouse was normally less than a foot tall. But for this mission and in this dimension, he'd become around five and half foot tall. It was a staggering change to have to adapt to, even for someone of his talents. So his coordination overall and his driving skill, especially, was not on par. And the double decker bus was not his usual vehicle, either. He couldn't fit into his usual vehicle right now. They hadn't had enough power to use the growth-ray gun twice and they'd completely forgotten that his vehicle had a growth feature already built into it anyway - so his regular vehicle was going to stay tiny. The bus would have to do.

Britains top secret agent was on a mission. And this was the next stop.

Cream was too polite to ask any of the questions that other kids might have asked. Hence inquires like "why are you wearing an eyepatch?" and "what kind of mouse are you, if you don't have a tail?" went unspoken. She had been recruited to the mission and had been told what the mission was, which had answered the most important questions and... To her private delight and surprise, the top secret agent of the British Government was polite. Really polite. A near kindred spirit.

She trusted him, if only because of that.

"Why don't you go ahead?" Said the mouse, holding the door open for her.

"... Okay!" Cream figured that anything a polite secret agent asked her to do was probably not illegal so she skipped off the bus and entered the casino, with two super bewildered monsters in tow. She didn't make it very far.

"There is NO WAY that you are old enough to be in a casino." Said a grumpy patch of casino wallpaper. Ignoring the fact that HE was barely old enough to be in a casino.

Cheese attacked on impulse. Krackers attacked on reflex. Neither of them liked being snuck up on.

"Uhm... Are you all right?" Cream asked while giving her monsters a near parental look of 'thanks for defending me but please take that out of your mouth'.

A smug robotic hedgehog rolled over to inspect the damage and snapped a photo. He hugged the little rabbit girl, sighed rather metallically, muttered "if only I'd had you as a friend back in the good old days..." and then repaired the carpet before returning to manage the poker tables.

"..." Espio was now visible but not quite in the frame of mind to say anything that was appropriate to speak in the vicinity of any kid who wasn't Charmy.

Speaking of which...

Having heard the roars of monsters coming from somewhere other than an arcade game, the bee had come out to investigate. He smiled when he saw the predicament of the battered ninja. "Oh this IS priceless! Hey, Vector!"

Getting the crocodile took a few moments. Charmy had the strength, somehow, to physically drag his adoptive elder brother but the kid preferred to just buzz around the crocodiles head until Vector gave in.

"What is the..." Vector stopped in his tracks. He was not looking at Espio or even Cream, though. He was looking past them. And his jaw just about fell off which is not a small thing, on a croc. His eyes went shiny with admiration and he clasped his large hands together. "Is it really you...?" And then Vector took off his headphones - the headphones that he never ever took off, not even when he slept or showered - and held them out as if to make an offering. "I mean, I'd be honored if..."

Charmy, Espio and even Mecha radiated different degrees of concern. They'd seen Vector do some pretty weird things in the past but the crocodile had never acted like such a total fanboy before. And they all saw the white humanoid mouse that had just come inside but they had no clue why Vector would react this way to the guy.

"Is it polite, to introduce secret agents?" Cream asked in a loud whisper. She wasn't sure what the protocol on this was.

"Well, you have just told everyone in earshot that I AM a secret agent so..."

Creams entire body language went into distressed apology mode.

"Now look here, there's no need for that!" The mouse said gently but in a way that made it clear he would not tolerate any debate on the subject. "If they're going to work with us then they need to know who I am anyway."

"...We're going to work with you?" Espio sounded skeptical. The monsters had finally realeased him so he was fading back into the wallpaper, trying to hide the bite marks and also his wounded warrior pride. He was more upset with himself than with the monsters. If only he wasn't so tired... His ninja reflexs... He should have been able to counter...

Meanwhile Charmy was waving both hands in front of Vectors over-shiny eyes. "We don't even know who you are, Mister."

This brought Vector out of his trance. "THAT is a ICON of the music world!"

"I'm very sorry but I do think that you may have me confused with someone else." Said the mouse but he was thinking something more along the lines of: _I never should have taken up a hobby under my codename..._

"You mean..." Vector nearly collapsed with disappointment. "...you're NOT the legendary DJ DangerMouse?"

"Sorry." said Agent DangerMouse._ I am going to have to choose a new codename, if this keeps up. And I'm going to have to complain to the narrator about not introducing me sooner. I mean really, this is just absurd..._

Why is it that all the characters who can hear me want to argue with me? asks Fate.

"As if you didn't know." says Agent DangerMouse, sounding cross. "Don't you try to play innocent! What did you do with the regular narrator, anyway?"

Cream has the best ears of the non-secret-agent group, so she heard both sides of this budding debate. She's the only one.

"How long have you been hanging out with mental cases?" Charmy inquires. "And what is with the eyepatch? Is he a pirate, too?"

Vector sees the small rabbit for the first time since her arrival and straightens up, putting his headphones back on. "Does your Momma know you're here?"

The former detectives knew Cream. Kind of. They'd been hired to locate her more than once in the past. They'd found Cream saving the world on one of those occasions and in an alternate dimension, another time. Her departures had been uncharacteristically sudden in such instances so her mother, Vanilla, had gotten worried. Vanilla... She was pretty and smart and an incredible chef with miles of patience, yes. All good traits. Vector had entertained some feelings for the elder rabbit, in the past. But Vanillas heart was elsewhere, he suspected and so he'd gradually moved on.

Anyway. Vanilla had hired the detectives to locate her daughter and had even tried to pay them for their work which was not something that their customers - who had been few and far between - often did. But Vector had declined the payment. Not because Vanilla was beautiful - though she was - but because of principles. Beliefs. Standards. Ethics. Justice. Vector had incredibly strong feelings on the subject of missing children. As the adoptive parent/brother of Charmy and adoptive something of Espio... And as the type of guy who would have helped kids to search for lost toys, even if he'd had other detective work in progress... The crocodile couldn't imagine charging a fee to alleviate the worry of a parent, that was all. And Cream was a good kid, basically. And Vanilla had a business to run. And Vector knew how hard it could be to keep a small business going - so he wasn't going to take money from Vanilla. Her money had better uses.

"Yes and no." Cream replied honestly. "I said goodbye to her but she doesn't know I'm here exactly because not even I knew that I would be coming here when I got on the bus and..."

"Call and tell her." Vector said gruffly. "We have phones that you can use."

Cream has remained in her apologetic stance. With a monster on either side of her, she looks smaller than usual. "But...it's classfied. I think."

"Excuse me, is there perhaps somewhere else that we can talk?" Agent DangerMouse has finished filing complaints with the narrator - for now. "I would like to fill you in on the mission..."

"Or we could stay right here and you could give us the short version." Charmy liked the monsters and was hovering around them, as if trying to pick a fight. He was particularly curious about the cowbear. The former detectives were all friends to Knuckles so they saw a passing resemblance here. "Better be interesting, too."

Espio and Vector nodded their agreement.

Agent DangerMouse shrugs and lets his arms fall to his tool belt. There is some debate about how much of his fur counts as clothing. So either he is wearing a white fur suit or he is not but beyond that he has the belt, the eyepatch, a pair of white gloves and a badge with the letters 'DM' pinned to his chest. Yes, he is a secret agent wearing a name badge. No, that doesn't ever seem to make him any less of a secret. "All right. The short version... Lets see... Cream? Remember those instructions that I gave you?"

"But that wouldn't be polite at all!" Protests the rabbit child. Her monsters look disappointed.

"No, I suppose that it wouldn't." Admits Agent DangerMouse. "Hrm. All right. How about this: where I'm from, we live to serve Queen and country. Unfortunately, the Queen has left the country. This creates a few problems, you understand. We need to get her back."

"So... You came to us, why?" Espio is a patch of wallpaper again.

Vector puffs out his chest and beams with pride. "He must have heard that we were famous detectives!"

"We were?" Charmys presence practically renders the narrator useless. "When?"

Oh thanks very much, sulks Fate, I get told off by a not-at-all dangerous seeming mouse and then replaced in the scene by a snide little bee. Wonderful. I'll just be leaving, then. I know when I'm not wanted. You think I couldn't have been in the movies? I had prospects, I tell you! Prospects!

Cream is the only one who feels bad about the narrator departing in a huff from this scene.

But the carpet and wallpaper patterns in the casino are distracting, so Fate takes a wrong turn and gets lost and has to wander - sheepish but still upset - back through the scene before truly departing. Fate tries to make this detour seem planned by shouting again, in an echo-y way: Prospects!

There are two creatures that can hear this and Cream is still the only one who cares.

James Bond and Agent DangerMouse do not belong in the same sentence unless the words 'is a decoy for' are between them. Yet there are some worthwhile comparisons to make here. James Bond was a human, a decoy and he always got instructions. Bond didn't always follow the instructions because the films about his adventures would be short, if he did that and hundreds of stunt people would have to find other work. Meanwhile DangerMouse was humanoid and the top secret agent. He always got instructions as well but they tended to be vague: here is a problem, we know you can solve it - good luck Agent DM. That sort of thing.

The mouse was given missions without plans. His bosses were scatterbrained and it was all they could do to remember to give him the mission, they couldn't be expected to have solutions as well. They trusted their top agent to find the solutions on his own. He could do research on the characters that he was likely to encounter but he usually had to come up with the plans as he went. A flashback should include the memorable speech of: _The entire planet is flooded with custard, Agent DM. Please take care of it before we all drown. We know that you'll find a way._

And he had. Because creatures who are short tend to feel like they have a lot prove, remember?

His impressive-to-the-point-of-being-impossible credentials, his multiple college degrees and martial art black belts... Even at less than a foot tall, DangerMouse might have been able to defeat an army by himself or invent something that revolutionized life on Earth for everyone. Instead, he'd only used his skills to save the world from being flooded by custard. And that sort of thing. His other missions had been equally unique. He was the agent that got the assignments that nobody else knew what to do about. That's why he was so valued and highly ranked. That was why he couldn't even get stunt doubles. Stunt doubles didn't want any part of his job.

DangerMouse could save the world from things that defied logic and physics. And while he could manage a bit of violence if absolutely necessary, he preferred to use his extensive language skills. Being fluent in every known language and a few unknown ones as well... And even though he was polite, there's something about a British accent that can make nearly anything sound extra polite... DangerMouse could politely negotiate with just about any monster - human, alien or otherwise - that didn't have a hearing problem.

So when he'd been calmly informed that the Queen was preparing to leave not only the country but the entire dimension... Of course he'd taken the mission. This was precisely his line of work. He specialized in this sort of adventure. It was, he often remarked with modest grace, just a job. Someone had to do it.

However even though he couldn't get a stunt double... DangerMouse did usually have a loyal and witty, if cowardly, sidekick tagging along. _Poor Penfold_. _He's no good at... Well... Most things. He makes a jolly good cup of tea, though._

This was not an unkind thought, either. It was scientifically proven that the hamster sidekick, loyal and witty and endearing though he could be, was a coward. The formal technical name of this hamsters species included the word 'cowardissimus'. It was a species that had a broad yellow stripe down the back and that had survived for eons by virtue of running away. Agent DangerMouse might have seemed brave and intelligent - and short, normally - when standing next to almost anything but standing next to Penfold... Well, it WAS the basic job of the sidekick to make the hero seem even more amazing by comparision. Penfold could have won an award for doing that part of the job so thoroughly.

_I may have to get him an award, if he survives this mess._ Thinks DangerMouse.

The Queen had left the British dimension in order to become a pokemon trainer. Why should Christopher Robin have all the fun? In a situation this bizarre, you couldn't have just one British pokemon trainer roaming around. No point in bringing a whole dimension over for just one trainer. There had to be at least two. The British Government had tried to reason with Her Majesty but her hearing was going and so she'd captured Penfold with a pokeball instead of listening to them. Penfolds codename was Jigsaw because he went to pieces - mentally, at least - when stressed. He was not, in other words, someone suited to becoming a pokemon. At all.

The second task of any heros sidekick is to emphasize the danger. DangerMouse, as you may have noticed, had the word danger in his encoded codename and he goes by his codename. Some people might have settled for having danger as their middle name but not this secret agent - Danger was essentially his first name. He was so brave that he didn't often percieve how dire the situation was right away. Therefore, in order to make up for this flaw of the hero, Penfold really did have to be a coward. Being cowardly was a vital job requirement for him. The hamster was a dear friend to the heroic mouse but having Penfold around was also a bit like having a canary in a coal mine: Penfold provided an early warning - or at least some warning - of approaching threats. Without Penfold...

DangerMouse had lost his warning system. And being intelligent, he recognized this as a very bad thing. So yes, DangerMouse valued the clumsy and cowardly sidekick as a friend. And being a hero, he would have saved Penfold anyway. He always saved Penfold. But in his mind, saving Penfold even took slight priority over trying to save the multiverse. Because he couldn't save the multiverse properly without his sidekicks cowardly guidance.

If you were going to reason with a pokemon trainer then apparently you needed to become a pokemon trainer. And as much as DangerMouse wanted to rescue his friend... He couldn't imagine fighting The Queen, the very lady that he was sworn to serve. So he'd come up with a cunning plan.

His cunning plan was: get someone else to become a pokemon trainer.

And he'd done his research. The rabbit girl seemed quite trustworthy and she'd already had two monsters with her so... They just needed to fill out her team a bit, didn't they?

The bee, the crocodile and the patch of wallpaper were arguing among themselves. This would be a good opportunity to...'recruit'... the trio. The rabbit girl was hesitant but her monsters were keen, at any rate. And being polite himself - a true British Gent, even if he was a tail-less mouse that had been born on Mount Everest - DangerMouse knew how to work around the girls politeness. All she needed was a bit of coaching and encouragement.

He politely leaned over her. "Go on, then. You do want to save the multiverse, don't you? Why should they mind? It's their multiverse too and you said yourself that they're skilled warriors, yes?"

Cream knew a few skilled warriors. She hadn't volunteered information on anyone. DangerMouse had done the research and selected the targets. Cream had merely recognized them. The bus had a working radio and they'd been listening to recent news broadcasts for part of the way over. So Cream was aware that most of the other warriors - and she hoped it was most of them - were probably busy resolving the whole situation with the island. For the island to be where it was, crashing over a city... Amy Rose lived in that city. She would be there. Knuckles lived on that island but he had to be hurt or maybe something worse. Parking the island on top of a city was not something that Knuckles would be doing if he was healthy. Sonic...

The radio broadcasts hadn't mentioned Sonic and he was a well-known hero in this world, he would have been recognized. He would have been mentioned. The fact that he hadn't been... It was worrying. What if Sonic was in trouble? Amy could be right, sometimes, about such things.

Krackers had decided that evil genius or not, he liked the rabbit girl. Usually trainers were the ones who saw the potential in their monsters but this time it was vice versa. Hence Ursatank had told Cream more about the pokemon world during their long bus ride, so Cream didn't feel too afraid of that place now. She didn't feel any better, though, about what she had to do in order to maybe help save all these places. Cream wished that she could be more certain. But being polite at all - not to mention being as polite as she would have liked to have been - took time. And the way things had been politely explained to her, time was likely to become part of the problem.

And her Mom was older than her... So time would already be against... And being polite meant putting others first. And when 'others' was maybe the whole world and then some... Even her heroic friends, they'd always told her before that it was okay to break some rules and ignore some manners when saving the world. And she _had_ promised. Cream didn't like it but she was polite. She had to put others first. She had to defend her Mom. And she absolutely had to keep her promises.

_I am so sorry..._ Cream thought with her long ears hanging down. She nodded slightly to her monsters, closed her eyes and pointed.

Cheese didn't need any more permission than that. Krackers, eager to try and show that he was on par with the insect in battle skill, followed suit. DangerMouse provided some very special pokeballs that the British Government had recently invented for this specific mission. On the outside, they looked like miniature soccer balls. Of course.

The former detectives were skilled warriors but they were caught badly off guard.

It took less than five minutes to double the size of the young rabbits team. Then Cream wasn't able to stand it anymore. "STOP!"

Her monsters reluctantly did so.

"You let one escape." DangerMouse observed. He was sincerely not a jerk but he was efficient - a secret agent had to be, in these matters. He wanted to get things done and he just happened to care a touch more about his own friends than other peoples friends.

"YES." Cream felt worse than she'd ever felt in her life, bar none. This really just didn't seem like the best path. She frowned at the two pokeballs on the floor and shivered. It was all she could do not to burst into tears. The former detectives were not her closest friends - she wouldn't have been able to do this at all to her closest friends, not even with their written permisson - but she did respect and care about them. As soon as the world was saved, Cream resolved that she was going to have to make it up to them. Somehow. Even if they didn't remember the battles once it was all over - and Cream hoped that they wouldn't - she would find a way to make it up to them. Maybe she would have to get another job and save up to buy them a stack of concert tickets or something. She wasn't sure. But she was glad that at least one had escaped. She felt a tiny bit less like an evil maniac, having let one escape.

Then Mecha came by and hugged her again. He also wanted her autograph.

**ooxoo**

**A**my Rose was clinging for dear life to a piece of music in the sky. This was not her idea of fun. The music was moving upwards, the island was trying to move downwards, Amy had been running... She'd tripped. With everything in motion and going in different directions, it was hard to stay balanced. She struggled for a purchase on the music and slowly got back to her feet.

She was closer to the surface of the island now. She felt as if the jet engines might toast her. She couldn't see the surface of the island due to all the planes but she could see what Rouge was doing. Rouge was flying under and around the island, using the music to reinforce the cables and net the island. _That's a good idea. _thought Amy Rose, _Why isn't anyone helping her?_

There was a seed of dread in her mind, it blossomed in her heart. She'd kept hoping to see certain warriors, as she advanced towards the island. Even just a blur in passing would have been reassuring. But she hadn't. That made it hard to believe that they were here - or that they were okay.

"I would have to lose my hammer at the worst time ever..." Amy Rose gritted her teeth and tried to see a way up the slanted moving wall of music, the steepest part was still ahead.

And she had dropped the baseball bat, to catch herself.

Woodstock was still perched on her headband. The little bird snored. Amy hadn't noticed him. He wasn't heavy enough to register in her senses and with all the noise of jets and the panic of the people below and the music shield-turned-net, not even his snoring caught her attention. It was not normal for Amy Rose to fail to notice something as plain as a bird on her head but she just had a lot of other things demanding her attention right now. And by the standards of her own dimension, she was not normal anyway. She was the minority. She was the most abnormal one.

She looked at her situation, tried not to think that it might be more fun as a video game than it was in real life and fought her way upwards. The island rocked and changed the sheet music around it, the ripple effect threw her again. "Rouge!" Amy didn't know who else to call out to. She hadn't seen anyone else. She'd passed the car on the way up - it didn't have a driver. It also didn't have hands.

There were some inaudible mutterings through the air. "Why didn't you just stay on the ground?!" The bat demanded. "I don't have time to babysit!"

Amy was lifted to safety anyway and deposited in a heap on part of a sonata. _She hates my guts but she saves me and my city... I wish I understood why she hated me. I don't think I've ever done anything to seriously offend her. Annoy her, yes. Offend her, no. _Amy had a lot of questions but avoided them. "Thanks."

"Just stay out of the way!" Rouge snarled, flashing her teeth.

The Batmobile pulled up between them, spinning its tires against the music and swinging around in the overly dramatic way of commercials.

"Uh-oh..." Amy Rose looked from the car to the bat. "Not that format again."

Rouge paused in mid-departure. "What?"

"It just came to me." Amy said and pointed to the bat. "Flight." She pointed to the car. "Speed." Amy hesitated and placed the hand on her own chest. "Power." _I hope..._

Rouge hated that she was right.

"We could call it Team..." Amy said, thoughtfully.

"Jewel." Rouge said flatly and flew away to resume her work. "I am not being in any team named after flowers and there's no way I want my name on a team if you're in it. Ugh."

"I was GOING to say that we could name it after the car. Is it your car?!" Amy Rose sidled over to the car. The world was full of sentinent objects so why not try this? "Pst. Are you her car? What's your name?"

The Batmobile does not much care, as it turns out, for being called the Batmobile. That was so... Not... Masterpiece-y-ish. Batmobile was more like a species description than a name, even to its computers and right now there's a chaos emerald lurking in there so the vehicle has got more independence to make decisions than usual. Most Awesome Professional Race Car In The Multiverse was not a bad name but it was not really trendy and the nicknames that could result from such a title weren't worth thinking about. So the car decides that Jewel is a nice name and says so, via digital readout.

For the record, Beethoven was a close second choice. A lot of trendy vehicles do take their names from music after all.

**ooxoo**

**T**eam names are very important. Well. At least for one team, in particular.

Knuckles has finally had it explained to him that Wossamata U is the actual name of the university that he is currently standing on the campus of and so he's calmed down a little. He's not feeling tons better - the absence of The Master Emerald has remained a choking void to him - but he was trying not to let that show because he didn't expect anyone to understand. And despite the void within, he might have been cheered up if he'd had any idea that his incredibly bad day had turned contagious and that Dr. Robotnik was among those who'd caught it.

However it was not the...style...of certain heros to have any real idea that evil villains - or evil, period - existed. Dr. Robotnik had basically defeated himself without their knowing but they would probably get the credit later. That was how they rolled, so to speak.

Mostly they strolled, though. The fire alarms and subsequent impromptu football game had taken them outdoors. Knuckles had been re-captured and given a fashion makeover by his adoptive college football team before the game was over. He now wore blue and yellow shoes as well as a team jersery. The football cheerleaders, anxious for any excuse to be mentioned, had gotten out their face-painting kits and etched the word 'wolverine' at least fifteen times in bold print on his...er...person. Mostly his dreads. Also his tail. He'd escaped from the team again and rejoined quite possibly the only heros in the universe who acted more clueless than himself. These guys could nearly rival Shadow and they don't even have amnesia. So Knuckles wasn't any safer here, really.

They were walking past a large statue that had fallen over. Students have already decided that it makes a good place to post public messages.

"Look Roc," says the moose, "there's a new club advertisement posted on that bulletin board!"

"What kind of club?" asks the squirrel.

And Knuckles, who can read the sign from here, says: "Oh no..."

The moose ignores this. He is exceptionally good at ignoring things. "Some kind of debate team, I think. We have to have three members and a team name. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Fate wanders back into the story to watch this.

"... but what would we be debating?" The gray squirrel wonders.

The moose squints at the fine print. "Flight, speed and power. Hrm. Maybe it's a scientific debate club? Or a mechanical debate club? Oh look, the best team can win a free trip!"

Knuckles is trying to leave without drawing much attention but the moose has stepped on his foot. And the moose is far heavier than he looks and also, sometimes, far more observant than he acts.

"Flight, speed and power?" The squirrel considers and decides that a vacation might be nice. "Well, I'd know about flight. And maybe you'd know about power, Bullwinkle. Err. Sort of."

"Coach did always say I was a force of nature." The moose agrees, without feeling the need to add that he has stayed in relatively good health by being the local quarterback. Er. Quarterbuck. And even though Wossamata U was not where the moose lived or was originally from... He'd been attending the university for so long without fully graduating that the college administration is starting to wonder if he works here.

The moose and squirrel look to Knuckles expectantly.

"Know anything about speed?" asks the squirrel, "You could be on our team. You said that you needed to go home, right? If we won the trip..."

"..." Knuckles prefers to think of himself as a power type. However the absence of The Master Emerald has cut his power, to an extent and currently one of his arms is broken. Not to mention that having been face-painted by a bunch of cheerleaders kind of crimps ones perception of their own power. Plus Knuckles is a veteran fighter, he's survived enough adventures to recognize his limits. He knows that even with both arms healthy and even with earth elemental attacks at his disposal and even if he could find a place to wash the face-paint off... He might not do well against the moose. Because the moose was, in his view, less a force of nature than a recipe for disaster. Which is why Knuckles is still trying to leave. And being grumpy hasn't gotten the Guardian much luck yet so he's willing to take the other approach. He tries to warn them. "Listen, I've been on these kind of teams before. It's not what you think."

"You mean, it's even better?" asks the moose, refusing to hear the warning as it was intended.

"NO."

"Oh. So you mean, you can read our minds?" the moose persists.

Knuckles has no idea where this accusation has come from. "...what?!"

"You said that this debate club wasn't what we thought." The moose explains. "So how do you know what we thought?"

"That's a good question, actually." The squirrel agrees.

"It was a figure of speech!" Knuckles exclaims.

"But it's a debate club. Not a speech club." Smiles the moose, waving a finger as if to correct an inattentive student.

Fate is taking notes.

"What PLANET is this?!" Knuckles demands, frustrated. While standing on his native planet.

"That could be an interesting debate." The moose comments, unswerved. "I always thought that Earth was kind of a boring name..."

"We still need a team name, though." says the squirrel.

Fate has been waiting for this moment.

"No problem!" enthuses the moose, "A team name is just a list of all the members, right? So we'd be Team Rocky, Bullwinkle and Wolverine."

"That is NOT my name." Knuckles grumbles. They had done introductions earlier but someone had apparently ignored those introductions. "And besides it sounds like a...really bad...law firm. Or something."

"We could just use the first letters and be Team RBW?" muses the squirrel, who had listened to the introductions but who didn't like the sound of RBK. Also, he wasn't going to ignore their new friends football affiliations.

Or... says Fate, If I could make a suggestion? You could just name the team after, say, the team leader. Who is the flight member, by default. That is why they're listed first. And use the leaders full first name. Not just the popular nickname. It's traditional, as of right now. So then you guys would actually be... And I must say that I do love where this is going...

The squirrel and moose have heard this, Knuckles hasn't. So as far as Knuckles is concerned, the other two have reached a decision without him. The partners in not-exactly-heroics look to each other.

"Team Rocket?" They say, together.

Very good! cheers Fate. Exactly right!

Insert a blank moment here.

"Hey, if this is the end of the chapter then aren't you supposed to do a summary of what might happen next?" says Rocket J. Squirrel patiently.

Oh. Right. Hangon. Uhm. Fate shuffles some notes. Okay. Here we go. Ahem.

So... Which continent will Tails end up on? What will the brave and bewildered kitsune name his team? Who will be the third member? Can Team Jewel manage without the guys? Or will Rouge and Amy Rose strangle each other before this story is over? How long does it take to save a city, anyway? Why hasn't Schroeder ever gotten a grammy nomination? Is it really wise, to allow the most awesome professional race car in the multiverse to become sentient? Has anyone sent the Dark Knight a get well card? Is Batman currently in the same hospital as Dr. Robotnik? And if so, then who might be joining them next? Will Knuckles have a heart attack if he ever finds out what is going on with the island? Can he afford the parking ticket that could result from the islands current location? Will he need more hands-only CPR in the future? Will there BE a future? Can the multiverse be saved? And if it can be then who is going to pay for Silver to get counseling?

If you care about any of the above, you are misguided.

Because the question that you should REALLY be thinking about is: If the Queen of the British dimension left her throne to become a pokemon trainer then who is doing her job in the meantime?

A quick cutscene shows a harrassed looking female humanoid brown squirrel. Why she doesn't have a proper squirrel tail and whether or not she has any distant relation to a famous flying grey squirrel - among other such celebrities - has yet to be determined. She is sitting in an office that should be very familiar by now. Remember how ideas can travel? Yes, it does appear that the set is being reused. There's a framed photo of a President hanging on the wall behind the desk and a smoldering ashtray, left behind by a criminal mastermind, on the desktop. The chair behind the desk has been replaced by a regal British throne. The young lady sitting on the throne right now used to be a princess but she's never had to dress for the part, until recently. That's why she is looking particularly harrassed. She despises the frilly gown and sparkly tiara ensemble. In protest, she is wearing her simple blue vest with the outfit. Sally folds her hands, glares into the camera and growls. "We are NOT amused." Her tone of voice makes it very clear that she never wanted this job. A train with a band named Train aboard goes past the office window, playing her new theme song. _She don't really wanna be the queen..._ End the cutscene.

For all this zany absurdity and so much more - tune in next time! says Fate, Unless, you know, the world ends before that!

Rocky and Bullwinkle consider everything that they've just overheard.

"Did you follow any of that?" says the moose in his patented tone of someone who will probably ignore the whole plot, such as it exists.

The squirrel shakes his head. "No. It was way too long to be a real summary."

But that WAS the short version! protests Fate. Why, I didn't even MENTION...

"And there weren't very many word puns." The moose adds solomnly. "Wasn't very exciting, if you ask me."

"Yea." Rocky scratches the area of his head where his ears might be if he ever took his aviators cap off. "Guess they don't make narrators like they used to."

"... No, seriously, what planet is this?" asks Knuckles who, perhaps mercifully, still can't hear the narrator. Or see the cutscenes. But he might hear some theme music, eventually.

Oh, why put it off.

A marching band goes by and they're playing a song without words because words just wouldn't do justice to this group.

Rocky is perplexed. "That wasn't our regular theme music..."

"Kinda catchy though." says Bullwinkle.

The British dimension has exerted its influence again. The Liberty Bell March may have been composed anywhere in the universe but it is now most strongly associated with a certain British Flying Circus. And Team Rocket is going to borrow it because 'flying circus' is too apt a description for all forms of Team Rocket to ignore.

Knuckles is not feeling better. "What do you mean THEME MUSIC? I HATE theme music."

Everyones a critic. pouts Fate but then Fate changes to a forced-super-cheerful tone. And now, for a word from one of our sponsers!

**ooxoo**


	7. 4:1

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**4:1**

**T**hea Gale, Emerald City Gym Leader, walks into her local PokeCenter. "Antoine? Are you here? Saw your bike outside and... Hey! That's the creature that escaped from the Testing Facility and that the entire League is now after!"

Sonic has not understood a word of this. Antoine wishes that he didn't.

The scene pauses, as if it were a recording. Or...better yet...a commercial.

A friendly-seeming yet shifty-eyed and very short salesman appears in the foreground. He is wearing mostly black - but with a necktie that could induce seizures. He begins to talk quickly. "Having problem with girls? Never know what to say? You want to take her out? Can't agree on a movie? We have solution! Natasha, show the people!"

On cue, a tall and pretty but thankfully silent lady wearing mostly black appears next to him. She is also wearing the name and logo of a recently invented business on a sash and holding up a sign with the same information on it.

"Yes! Is brilliant!" says Boris because even in disguise, it's clearly him. "We proudly present to you the brand new and better than ever RUN FOR YOUR LIFE(tm)(r)(lol) shoe store! All ladies, they like to shop for the footwear - yes? So bring your date! Bring your animals! Bring your feet! And your paycheck! We got something for everybody down here! No kidding! Come and see!"

The camera follows Boris and Natasha. They take Sonic, Antoine, Thea, all of Theas friends and coworkers who were waiting outdoors, Professor Carmen Yado, all their pokemon, an entire herd of colorful ponies, a busload of police officers and basically everyone who happens to be in the area - except for Nurse Joy - with them for a brisk walk. They follow a yellow dirt road to a building located in downtown Emerald City that might have been put up yesterday. Despite this, the inside is clearly a high-class retail establishment. From the inner appearance and layout of the place you'd think they were selling jewelry but it is indeed a shoe store.

"You see?" Boris now chooses to change his whole costume twenty-one times in about as many seconds, to try and demonstrate the diversity of the inventory. "We got new shoes! Old shoes! Horseshoes! Cowboy boots! Combat boots! Other boots! Sandals! Moccasins! Bunny slippers! Ballet slippers! Clogs! Dancing shoes! Tennis shoes! Bowling shoes! Snow shoes! Ice skates! Skis! High heels! Soccer cleats! Flippers! Even the roller skates!"

Inserted here is what looks like a computer generated graphic of a roller skate doing the kind of wheel-spinning slow-motion u-turn that is more often shown in car commercials which seem to promote reckless driving in places without roads.

We return to Boris who is now standing in front of a pile of discarded costumes and shoes, wiping his brow with a tissue. Natasha, who may be the brains of this operation, has been content to watch and helpfully holds out a box of tissues in case her partner needs more of them.

Boris has just been, in order: an astronaut with light-up footwear, a knight in slightly tarnished armor, the back half of a horse costume, a cowboy outlaw in the middle of a dramatic gunfight, a wounded soldier in the same gunfight, a random guy up to his waist in mud and so you can't even tell what other boots he might be wearing, a tourist on a beach, a native american chief sending smoke signals, someone in bunny slippers, a ballerina, an Elvis impersonator in europe, an Elvis impersonator not in europe, a tennis player, a tennis player with a bowling ball and ugly shoes, an eskimo, an olympic figure skater, a guy falling out of a helicopter in order to ski down a mountainside, a short guy in high heels, a soccer player, a scuba diver and a member of a roller derby team. His roller skates are still smoking.

Even though a sign behind him says: No Smoking.

Boris is an outlaw so he doesn't care about the sign. Or maybe he put the sign up deliberately just so that he could seem like even more of an outlaw by standing in front of it with smoking footwear. Natasha is an outlaw as well but she doesn't want the store to burn down so she puts away the tissue box, goes to get a fire extinguisher and puts the roller skates out.

"Hoo boy! Makes you want to buy them, yea?" Boris is committed to making the commercial. He ignores the fact that his feet were on fire and also ignores being covered in the foam from the fire extinguisher. "And that's not all! We got shoes you wouldn't believe that they actually make! There is even super fabulous sale for grand opening: you pay full price for one shoe and maybe we give you the other one! Is very generous, don't you agree? So bring everybody you know! Bring everybody you don't know! Buy more!"

Nastasha nudges him - and the height difference between them is such that this requires her to lean down - and whispers something.

Boris reads the subtitles of her whisper. "Oh, yea! I nearly forget to mention! Shopping makes people hungry, we know this. So we have worlds best ice cream parlor right here in store! Is no joke! You don't even have to leave! Why should we let other places take your money? We here to take your money! So RUN FOR YOUR LIFE(tm)(r)(omg) down here! These bargains no last forever! Spikey rodents extra welcome!"

A close up on Sonic in the background, looking bewildered (still!) and saying: "I can not believe that they actually make little fuzzy people slippers!"

But this is probably just coincidence since Sonic hasn't understood anything that Boris said during the commercial. And only Mr. Antoine Frankly and the assorted pokemon can understand Sonic.

The words 'rare and dangerous pokemon?' flash in the foreground of Sonics close up and then are replaced by a paragraph of near-microscopic print. Which reads: Some shoes not available in all sizes, colors or stores. We reserve the right to refuse service to people with two left feet. Hidden charges may apply. Residents of the Emerald City have to pay extra postage. Yes, a brand new store can also be accurately described as 'better than ever'. No, we do not recommend operating roller skates while under the influence of ice cream. Team Rocket, formerly Joes Overpriced Car Korral, is not responsible in any way for any loss or damages resulting from anything. Ever. You can't prove it. We should know - we've tried. However the country of Pottsylvania will be happy to claim responsibility for your misery so please send us your complaints, we consider it fanmail. All hail Fearless Leader. Prepare for trouble, make it double. Or triple. We had to cut expenses and so we merged, okay? Now seriously - RUN FOR YOUR LIFE(tm)(r)(pg13). And bring your money. Etc.

**ooxoo**

**E**chidna had accidentally saved the elephants. It was frustrating but logical. Echidna lived inside a cloud of icy bubbles that shrouded her from the clear view of the outside world. Pikadatuffree... Most of the electric and semi-electric species had the ability to inflict paralysis on contact but Pikadatuffree was so darn cute that it could inflict paralysis _on sight._ And the adorable little animal was hugging Echidna. Inside the shroud. So Echidna was paralyzed but nobody else could see the cute little animal clearly.

They could hear it, though. And understand it.

"And we'll go to the beach! And have a picnic! And... Don't you think that sounds like fun, Mom? I really love having you as a Mom. I could just say that forever. Mom, Mom, Mom..."

It was just a good thing that all the cuteness meters everywhere in the multiverse had already been destroyed.

Pikadatuffree bounced around in a hyper and radiantly adorable way as it chattered cutely, pausing often to further hug the Echidna. Well. There was a difference in size. Pikadatuffree was a small creature with genetics taken from four small creatures who'd had a whole lot to prove - and who had proven it. Echidna was half human. So Pikadatuffree was more clinging to the Echidnas arm-like appendages than hugging the mythical monster. And Echidna was paralyzed.

"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!" Came a high-pitched roar from within the shroud.

"Uhm. No." said TKO, the electric sheep/elephant and spokes-pokemon of the wardens. "If we do that, we'll be able to see it clearly. It would paralyze us and then everyone might escape. And that's only if it didn't... Get upset."

The elephants and various other pokemon who had assembled to see what all the cute noise is, backed away. Cautiously.

"You're an ELECTRIC type!" snarls Echidna, desperately appealing to TKO. She thinks that all electric types are the same and that one electric type should be able to resist another. We've mentioned Echidna is not very observant all the time, right? "Use your Shocking Trumpet if you have to! Or your Rolling Thunder! Or just step on it!"

"That would be a deathwish." Remarks TKO the Phaneep who knows about the limits of electric verses electric. And who is also, being a partial genetic descendant of Donphan, a ground type but still wouldn't consider that an advantage against the cute little animal. "Which, by the way, is rumoured to be one of Pikadatuffrees attacks. Deathwish. Seriously. The humans that built this animal were not in their right minds."

Pikadatuffree is standing right there and is not deaf. The adorable creature is, however, polite. We're talking about the kind of animal that allowed itself to be imprisoned for an indefinite amount of time just because it wasn't sure if escaping would be rude. So instead of taking offense, Pikadatuffree remains cute and preoccupied with hugging the Echidna. And Echidna remains paralyzed.

"Why don't you just close your eyes?" suggests a random elephant, trying to be helpful but still backing away. "Then we wouldn't have to see it and neither would you."

Even Echidna notices the flaw in this plan. "I wouldn't be able to see anything else, either! Not a good idea!"

An increase of pressure on an arm-like appendage indicates another hug. "Don't worry, Mom." says Pikadatuffree with adorable bravery and just a teeny tiny hint of the kind of energy that could make the bravery seem completely unnecessary. "I would _never_ let _anything_ happen to _you_."

Now do you begin to see what the ancient greeks were on to? rants Fate. They gave their monsters the kind of traits that only a mother could love and then they actually gave those monsters a mother, as well. She was a feared monster herself but she had to be, to survive the kids. Right? She was a different species but the kids didn't care. They loved her. Echidna could have been harmless and she still would have been feared because the kids that mythology gave her, loved her. Yet people underestimate the power of motherhood. You should NEVER underestimate the power of motherhood.

Ahem. Fate calms down. This has been a public service announcement paid for by moms who are sick of being ignored, by kids who actually listened to their parents, by the friends of people who have noticed that parenthood totally changes their schedules and also by the corporation for citizens who think it's silly that so many heros are orphans. Because the more you know...

**ooxoo**

**K**nowledge is the ultimate power.

Power corrupts.

Adam M. Shadow had never been fond of the concept that knowledge might indeed be the ultimate power. Because he didn't have a firm grip on the contents of his own brain and he wasn't sure that his mind was in the best condition. His memory certainly wasn't. So yes, he was a dangerous and skilled living weapon. And yea - even as a human, he often threatened to show opponents his ultimate power. But that was an empty threat. Something to say that sounded intimidating. Almost a catchphrase.

_His_ ultimate power... Adam couldn't remember precisely what that was, right now. And he wasn't sure that it had ever been knowledge. His brain had perhaps been corrupted by the information hidden there... However there was no shortage of other things that may have caused him brain damage as well. And Adam didn't currently remember even a fraction of those things. So he wasn't certain why his memory was so bad. He just had the depressing feeling that he'd probably been tricked and lied to rather a lot, due to not having enough answers of his own. It made him irritable and filled him with doubt on the subject of his own worth.

He was currently suffering from an overdose of that inner doubt.

The League was terribly efficient. Adam should have known this. He worked for them. He'd shut down a whole criminal organization for them earlier today. With the help of one borrowed elephant and two of his own pokemon. No other trainers. The League had let him go alone. And he wasn't even a high-ranked Champion yet. So the actual high-ranked Champions...

Truthfully, it was amazing that this world even had criminal organizations anymore with what the League had become.

According to the history, most of the number one League Champions had been male. This was not an unbroken tradition. The current number one League Champion was male. Even the current number one Gym Leader, a kid named Christopher Robin, was male. However League Champion numbers two through five were all female. Because in the past some misguided person had commented on global television that girls would never be League Champions. So even the typically peaceful female trainers - including the sorts of trainers who would have preferred not to have been in a fight - had united and decided to prove history wrong. And while the efforts of these ladies had certainly made a statement, they had not yet made the final point.

The current number one League Champion not being a jerk was a large part of why. People hesitated to challenge him to battle. Because he was a nice guy. Relaxed. Likeable, even. Yes, he had a pokemon that could take a solar-powered car off the road so fast that nobody inside the car could retaliate but...

"Aren't these your shoes?" asked the number one League Champion, holding up the trampled and charred rocket shoes. He spoke kindly. "You should take better care of them. They were laying out in a field. Are you feeling well? You don't usually leave things out in fields, do you?"

"How did you find me?" Adam tried to seem stoic but wasn't pulling it off very well. He had expected to be hunted down but not so swiftly. And definitely not by the top person in the League first. And really not by someone who sounded geniunely concerned about his well being.

"You mean aside from the tracking devices in the car, in your phone and on your bracelets? And all the police reports, the messages from the scientists that you robbed, the messages from your fans who are already promising to break you out of jail if need be and the calls from random citizens who just wanted to complain about your driving skills?" The League Champion laughed. And he wasn't laughing evilly or out of spite. It was a friendly relaxed laugh and it seemed appropriate. The situation was kind of funny, from his point of view and Adam scowling like it wasn't funny only made it seem funnier. "Oh, I dunno. Call it a hunch."

"Hmf." Adam had an impulse to turn and run away. He had no clue why. He didn't feel threatened. Was he any good at running away? Was that how he usually responded when people that he didn't know very well laughed and annoyed him? But, he was a living weapon. He felt pretty certain of that much. And living weapons should not be able to have these kinds of feelings - should they? And living weapons didn't run away - did they? No. So it wasn't precisely a fight that Adam had wanted to be in so soon but he was always prepared to fight, anyway. "Lets get this over with, Jim."

Yes. Adam had just used the Champions first name. He wanted to make it SEEM like he had some idea of what to expect.

"Why?" Jim was not startled that a near-stranger was calling him by his first name. His name and photograph had been widely distributed, the League made all sorts of merchandise: trading cards, posters, t-shirts. He was the Champion. He was, in this world, a bit of a celebrity. Most everyone knew his name.

He was an older man. Jim never told the media his real age but often joked that he was perpetually twenty-nine even though he was plainly well past that. Jim had not become the number one League Champion for the money or fame. Nor had he become the League Champion because he enjoyed fighting. No. Jim had become the number one League Champion because he viewed pokemon as living collectibles and he wanted to own at least one of each.

There were only around a hundred of the new genetic species that had been approved so far. Therefore 'collecting them all' wasn't as daunting a task these days as it had been for the pokemon trainers more than a hundred years ago - who'd had, according to estimates, perhaps more than a thousand wild species to seek out and chase down - but even so, the sheer amount of work involved... It was still extraordinary. Taking care of anything required work. Taking care of a large, live and dangerous collection required a workaholic.

And even with pokemon being man-made... Some of the genetic companies had gone out of business. So not all of the approved registered pokemon species were still being built. The pokemon who were products of companies that had shut down... They were no longer in production. They were like rare limited editions. You couldn't order them brand new anymore. You had to find a trainer who already had one and get that trainer to agree to a trade. And with so many trainers spending extra to have their pokemon customized and all the mandatory paperwork that was involved in the process, no one was too eager to trade these days.

Hence in order to persuade some trainers of his skill and in order to get legal permission to own so many of the creatures... Jim had fought. His record wasn't perfect but these days it was darn close. He had been doing this for a while and had kept in fairly good shape because of it. He had motivation and it wasn't based in just pride. He earned the right to expand his collection with each victory. His collection was not complete and might never be - new pokemon were always being designed and built - but Jim owned more creatures than anyone else on the planet and had several different teams at his disposal. Which was another reason that people dreaded fighting him. No one ever knew for sure which team he'd be using or what to expect, aside from a friendly handshake and a reassuring 'Good try!' after they lost. Yet fighting was not Jims passion. Collecting and research were his passions. Jim knew more about the new genetic pokemon than the people who built them, sometimes.

He knew a fair amount about people, as well. Because they had some of the same behavior patterns.

"You have your shoes back." Jim said reasonably, "And you have your house key back. I checked, it's still there. Maybe consider getting a spare key made? Just in case, you know? For future emergencies? It's not that expensive..."

Adam M. Shadow was getting frustrated. With himself. He wanted to fight but he also didn't want to fight. What kind of living weapon didn't want to fight? That didn't make any sense. And people not reacting in the way he'd expected, that didn't make sense to him either. "I blatantly broke the rules of the League. Why aren't you angry?"

"If you drink poison and expect others to die - that is anger. The fire that you would carry for others will burn you first." Jim quoted in scholarly tones and then laughed his friendly laugh again. "So why be angry? It's not healthly! Besides, earlier today you shut down a whole criminal organization for us - remember? That ought to count for something, hrm? When I got the report about your rule breaking, I figured that maybe you were just tired. We all make mistakes and especially when we're tired. Go home. Get some rest. League Orders. Okay? Let me take the Vulpersian back and then it's like no harm done - right? You'll have to pay for the car repairs and the traffic tickets, that's all." Jim shrugged expansively in a gesture of forgiveness. "If you really need to have a nice long chat about League policy then we can. But please go home and get some sleep first. Otherwise the talk might put you to sleep."

Jim waited to see if this would get a smile from Adam. It didn't. So Jim sighed and continued. "I'm not angry. You want anger, talk to someone else. In fact, if you really want anger, I can recommend a few trainers... But I doubt that you'd find them to be a challenge. They're not very highly ranked. Anger like that can impair judgement."

It's worth mentioning that Jim tended to dress like a combination of rumpled college student and scientist. He was a geeky looking guy. Which meant that he could - and frequently did - visit the actual League scientists without sticking out too much. So Jim hadn't just read the reports and seen the photos of the new blue sandwag that had turned up at the Testing Facility. He'd taken the photos and helped write the reports. He'd been there. Drinking coffee.

No matter how much Jim loved research, he was the Champion. People had expectations. He couldn't just hang around the scientists all day. Not even if he more or less had his office there. So yes, he'd seen Adam leave the fern to borrow the elephant in the morning and had brought the sandwag indoors later in the afternoon but Jim had left before Adams return to the facility or Sonics escape from it. The Champion had a lot of duties - inspections, meetings, educational lectures, guest appearances on tv shows. That kind of thing. Jim had gone to run a few errands.

Jim thought the sandwag would be a spiffy addition to any collection, though. So he hoped that the League would approve the new species soon. He'd already given his recommendation. They'd have to catch the prototype again before they could put it into mass production but... The League had good communications. They had trainers all over the world on the look out and reporting sightings. Tracking the sandwag down would not be as easy as tracking Adam had been - but it shouldn't be too hard. Jim was the type who checked his messages. He knew where the animal had last been seen.

Consider this: Jim, the number one League Champion and pokemon collector extraordinaire, had found the rocket shoes. What if he'd been looking for something else?

**ooxoo**

**S**onic did not understand the people but he was a veteran - as much as the term can apply to a fifteen year old - interdimensional warrior. He knew a few things about traps. Mainly, traps could not easily contain him. So the blue hedgehog was aware of the wide range of traps in the shoe store but he wasn't worried about them. These traps didn't look well made or anything. Sonic knew that he'd be able to spin out of them, if he had to. And he probably wouldn't have to. These looked like the kinds of traps that could be walked out of. Easily. And with so many other creatures about...

The shoe store was crowded. The short guy and his tall lady assistant appeared to be the only two employees. They were so busy selling stuff that they weren't likely to find time for activating flimsy traps.

When he thought about it, Sonic wasn't sure that even well made traps should be able to contain anyone that he knew. Knuckles and Shadow were both gullible warriors but they were also strong. And once they were trapped, they sort of woke up to the idea that they'd been tricked. Given even the slightest chance to escape - they would. If they weren't heavily restrained, violently sick and/or unconscious inside a trap then they'd find a way out. Because Knuckles could climb, burrow and punch his way through about anything. And Shadow could warp time and space. And when either of those two got bent on revenge, yikes. It was amazing how the anger seemed to sharpen their minds.

Dr. Robotnik and Tails - and Sonic hated to group them together even mentally but they were both mechanical genuises, of different degrees - if they weren't busy thinking up new schemes or inventions... Then they could pick locks or, in the absence of obvious locks, dismantle most any trap from inside. If Tails stayed in a trap then it was because he was either having a nap or so scared that he couldn't think coherantly. If Dr. Robotnik didn't pick the locks to a prison then it was because he figured that someone would just beat him up and throw him back in the prison when he tried to escape.

There was a certain secret agent jewel thief who could also pick - or kick - locks. Sonic just preferred not think about the bat. All the warriors had to blur the lines between good and evil once in awhile but Rouge seemed way too comfortable living in the middle of that boundary. Shadow trusted her but Shadow wasn't exactly a stellar judge of character. Sonic trusted the bat more than he trusted Shadow but not by much. Cream was the easiest to trust. She was young, honest and too polite to escape on her own but the seven year old had the power, if she felt inclined to use it. And Cheese, her constant companion, got bored easily so anymore the little chao would either encourage Cream to escape or just tear up the prison himself. Cream was more likely to politely convince the prison guard to release her than tear anything up. Amy Rose...

Amy could pull a giant hammer out of thin air. She could swing the hammer and break walls. Why didn't Amy ever use the hammer to escape? Sonic privately suspected that the pink hedgehog had allowed herself to be captured more than once in the past. Did she just like to be rescued? Yea, the theory seemed plausible. And that bugged him. Saving the world repeatedly, it was redundant work but Sonic didn't mind. He was pretty sure that the world didn't get endangered on purpose. Meanwhile saving Amy Rose all the time... If she _was_ doing this on purpose... That was just not cool. He was a hero! He couldn't just NOT rescue her - or anyone else - when needed but sometimes the option was tempting. After all, getting captured wasn't a behavior that Sonic wanted to encourage. Maybe if Amy didn't always get rescued, she'd learn to be more careful.

If only Sonic hadn't met Silver. And Amy had seen the kid too, she'd been on that adventure. Had she not put the pieces together? Weird, Amy was usually observant. Maybe she was in denial? Then again... The world had been ending when they'd first met Silver, so Amys focus might have been elsewhere. But... Would she still want to be captured so much if she had any idea of who else she was maybe endangering? Sonic didn't know. He didn't want to have to try and explain, either. Talking to Amy about kids from the future... Yea. She'd only take _that_ kind of discussion one way. And Sonic did not want to go that way. Ever. With anyone. That was the path to settling down.

Right now though, he might have gladly gone to rescue Amy Rose. Because rescuing creatures - that sort of thing made sense to Sonic. The current situation didn't.

Who put an ice cream parlor in a shoe store? Who served a herd of small colorful horses like they were customers? Sonic lived in a world with all kinds of creatures living together and animals were, in theory, given equal rights but... He'd never seen wild-looking animals treated so fairly, so casually. By humans. He didn't understand the languages here but it was clear, even to him, that nobody was telling the horses to get out or get lost. Nobody was even doing a startled double take. The animals were being treated as if they had every right to be here. Humans were helping them to try new shoes on and other humans who were also shoe shopping seemed to value the animals opinions on their own choices in footwear. Even knowing that these small colorful horses were blinking dangerous and wondering if that played a role in how the humans acted towards them... It was somewhere between creepy and almost too good to believe, just to see. Because in a way... This was a vision of the kind of peace and harmony that Sonic had always fought for.

He had carried the idealized image of peace and harmony between all species in his head for most of his life. He'd talked about it. Sonic had never really seen or even glimpsed the ideal put into practice, though. And so the scene around him now... It wasn't a bad view but this wasn't quite what he'd pictured, either.

Far more importantly... And easier to focus on... With all this exotic footwear around, how could there not be any sneakers?

Really. It just didn't make sense.

The closest thing to a sneaker in this building was a roller skate.

Sonic did not like roller skates. Well. Kind of. He could skate. Sonic had the balance and poise. It was fun to skate, once in a while. That wasn't the problem. Speed was the problem. Roller skates - the wheels tended to fall off, if Sonic went at his normal blurred pace. And braking was a nightmare, even if the wheels stayed on. He might as well go and look for the rocket shoes. They'd do him about as much good as any roller skate. Maybe more. But Sonic didn't know where to look for the rocket shoes anymore and he wasn't feeling patient. So maybe he should just get some roller skates and take the wheels completely off them to begin with and...

"vaaana!" yipped a little sharkdog, chewing up something expensive.

"Hey! Give that back! I about had the wheels off - " Sonic made the mistake of reaching for the shoes.

Poochyvana, Theas highly trained sharkdog, decided that this gesture meant Sonic wanted to play. So a noisy tug of war that went all over the shop and utterly destroyed the former roller skates ensued.

Antoine was thinking that if he could just sneak out of the building then maybe nobody would miss him or try to bill him for the damages. But Thea, the girl of his dreams, kept asking him to hold shoeboxes and he loved her so much that he couldn't say no. This was almost like being on a date. Finally, they were having a maybe-sort-of date. Although Theas usual gang of biker gym assistants were still around, doing some shoe shopping of their own. And his boss, Professor Carmen, was in the store too and with the help of her giant metallic eight-legged insect, she was now serving ice cream to everyone. Boris and Natasha didn't seem to mind - they were too busy selling exotic shoes.

If either Thea or Professor Carmen asked Antoine to turn in the sandwag, he would. How could he not? His maybe-girlfriend and his boss were both League employees. Antoine did not want to upset either of the women. Nor did he want to upset the League. He was an aspiring League employee himself. If the sandwag was illegally made or not yet an approved species then turning it in was the right thing to do. And also the safest thing to do. For everyone. But no one had asked yet. Not even the police. And he would have turned the sandwag in for them too, if they'd asked. Antoine had no desire to be a wanted criminal. He had to go to work tomorrow.

And it was getting late.

A grumbling and slightly mauled barefoot spikey rodent came to sit beside him again. "Are you SURE this world doesn't need saving?" Sonic demanded.

They'd been debating this on and off since meeting.

"I keep telling you, I'm sure!" Antoine spoke from behind a heap of shoeboxes. "Everything that you seem to think is weird - it's not. You're the weird thing. And illegal, too. Who built you, sandwag?"

Sonic narrowed his eyes. "You call me that one more time..." He was not in the best of moods. "I am a humanoid hedgehog and I try to be a hero and there's nothing else, got it? I was not 'built'. I was born. Just because I hardly knew my parents, that doesn't mean I've totally forgotten them."

This was true.

Sonic did not remember much about his parents. He had no clear audio or visual memories of that early stage in his life. And it wasn't something that surfaced a lot but... Raising Tails... Sonic had gotten flashes of 'I think my parents would have done this' when caring for the kitsune. And as awesome as Tails was, those flashes were a large part of why Sonic had stuck with the adoptive parent/big brother role.

Because he could have just left Tails in the care of someone else, better qualified. He'd been tempted to. Being a parent - that was like settling down, yea? In a way? Sonic had never been interested in settling down. So the temptation to leave Tails elsewhere had been considerable. Because Sonic had not even been a teenager when he'd found the cub. He'd been a kid himself. And parenthood of any kind hadn't ever been on his list of things to do. Plus as a warrior, even a child warrior, dragging a(nother) kid around while there were battles going on hadn't seemed like it would be a good idea. For anyone. But... Whomever his parents had been... Sonic felt closer to them when he was being a foster parent. And raising the kitsune... It had given Sonic another reason to keep getting up in the morning, another reason to fight. And as much as saving the world just seemed like the right thing to do - whomever he was doing it for - he'd never wholly given up on looking for more information on his relatives. Maybe his folks were still alive. Maybe they were still out there. Maybe Tails parents were still out there, too. Who knew. Sonic didn't.

There were all kinds of things that had happened and that might have killed them, though.

One of Sonics first battles, that he could recall... Had been in a forest. There had been a war on. Why it was called the Great War in the media and the history books, Sonic had never understood. Nothing about the war had been great, in his opinion. Sonic had lived somewhere and fought and fled and ended up somewhere else... He'd been a promising warrior with amazing speed, by the time he had reached the forest. And he'd been traveling on his own. But he'd found Tails soon after that. And then Sally.

Poor Sally. What else could you think? She had been a princess but a princess of what? It wasn't even worth capitalizing the title.

Sallys parents... Her mother - no one remembered much about the lady - had died young. Her father, the King, had been captured and banished to another dimension. They'd never been able to rescue the guy. And the kingdom - what kingdom? Dr. Robotnik had been more formidable back then. The madman had left them with a village and the total population of that village had been six. And one of those residents had been a physical half robot. A large percentage of the forests population had been captured, brainwashed and turned into complete robots. Or recruited into the human military, to act as soldiers and spies. The animals had organized their own resistance movements - they'd been called the Freedom Fighters - but the human military... G.U.N...

Humans did not have many things that they were better at than animals. Going to war was one of the exceptions. The human military had a long history of declaring war on nearly everything, including - in times of confusion, which were disturbingly frequent - itself. Despite this, G.U.N knew how to attract soldiers. The human military had offered better pay and benefits, snazzy uniforms, a startling range of weapons, an even more startling range of funeral arrangement plans and reliable supply lines. The Freedom Fighters, skilled though they were, had never managed to put together such a package. The human cities had been well guarded forts during the war. So when given the choice between living in a hidden village in the woods that had to supply itself or living in a well guarded fort with fresh supplies... A significant number of the humanoid animals had migrated into the cities for refuge and after the war, had just stayed there. Had settled down. Become residents. Amy Roses parents were likely from that trend. They might have been soldiers once. Sonic hadn't met them and he hadn't asked Amy about them either, so he wasn't sure.

Officially, the war had ended years ago. However the fighting continued in many places. The battles tended to be small and scattered these days. Large scale attacks were less frequent. Dr. Robotnik had run out of money, first and loyal robots, second. The Freedom Fighters had put a dent in the number of his bases which was a tradition that Sonic was happy to continue in his solo career. G.U.N, despite their unquestionable expertise at blowing things up, had invented - probably by accident - a nifty laser that reversed brainwashing. So the robots got zapped, recovered their personalities and changed sides. Most of them lived in the cities these days, too. It was easier for a robot to get work in the city. And spare parts. Some of the creatures actually preferred being robots. For those who didn't... There were ways to reverse robotization now but none of those ways were guaranteed to work, complications like death could arise and it was going to hurt.

Yes. Humans and animals and even robots, all these different species lived together now. In the cities. So there was some measure of peace and harmony between the species evident in Sonics world but it wasn't well advertised. The citizens of the cities did not always get along, either.

The village in the forest... Like a band with creative differences, the six had eventually gone their own ways. The friends had agreed that it would be for the best. Staying together, in cramped quarters and with a lot of tedious but necessary chores to do in order to keep the village supplied and mostly self-sufficient... The six had just reached a point where they had all gotten on each others nerves more often than was productive. They had shared too much history. Too many painful memories. It had become harder to feel hope for the future because of what they'd seen in the past. And they had always been inadvertantly reminding each other of what they'd seen in the past.

Due to this Sonic had allowed himself to forget pretty much everything about the village - but he remembered Sally. She'd been more of a general than a princess and she had been good at being a general. Tactics were her forte. Sally had been like a smart and slightly older sister to the blue hedgehog, always coming up with plans and affectionately nagging him to think before he acted. And she'd been closer to an adoptive mom, for Tails.

Sonic hadn't kept in touch with them very well. He'd kept in touch with Tails - yes, even they had split for a while - and that was it. He remembered Sally and Tails and had a hazy not-quite-recall of the other three because they'd stayed around the village more than he had. Tails would probably know where their friends from the village were now and what they were up to these days. Sonic didn't. He figured that maybe no news was good news. And he had to save the world more often than he had to save small villages, these days. So he hadn't returned to the site of his former home recently.

And he REALLY didn't like thinking about the past so dang much. Fragmented flashbacks were Shadows line of expertise. Sonic preferred to get things done, darn it.

But he couldn't keep another line of thought from creeping in because he'd met a few other versions of himself.

The universe seemed bent on declaring him to be royal. Sonic had no clue why. Other versions of him... Had been Princes. Some had gotten it from being forced into marriage with a princess - and no, it wasn't always a version of Sally apparently. And some had gotten it from being born to a King and Queen - because sometimes apparently Sally WAS his actual biological sister - but...

Sonic did NOT like this line of thought. He was a teenager. He was becoming allergic to the very idea of marriage. He hoped that if he ever found more information on his own parents then it would show once and for all that he wasn't royal in any way. Because he already saved the world as a full time job. That was enough responsibility. He didn't need to be running any sort of kingdom. Ever. Politics and paperwork and laws and ceremonies... Wasn't that another form of settling down? Sonic was a free spirit, when the world was safe. Even when the world was endangered, he tried to be a free spirit. He did not want a temporary desk job, much less a permanent desk job for life. Not even if the chair behind the desk was a throne. The mere notion made him claustrophobic. A palace might be a cool place to visit but he didn't want to live there.

He'd seen what could happen to kingdoms, anyway. Sonic had never been able to save that one King, Sallys father. Nobody had. Go figure. The guy had been beloved and his kingdom had been brimming with loyal citizens and they'd had many allies. But the minute the good King gets thrown into another dimension - where had everyone gone? Where had all the loyal supporters gone? They could invent ways to reverse being turned into a robot but not figure out which dimension their former King was in?

As an interdimensional hero, it was hard not to take the issue personally.

Sonic rarely traveled time, space or to other dimensions deliberately. He could have. He could have gotten Tails to invent something or Knuckles to try and use the Master Emerald or maybe even Shadow to use Chaos Control. However he knew that such actions would almost certainly have dire consquences. Sonic rescued everyone - but he was not prepared to endanger the whole world for the sake of one guy banished to another dimension. Because the King had been captured years ago and who knew how time passed, in another dimension or if the air had been different or... Maybe the guy had died instantly, in other words. Or maybe he just was dead by now. Hence taking up the search, asking for help... It had always conveniently slipped the blue hedgehogs mind. Sonic was trying to look to the future.

Although thinking about Silver didn't improve his frame of mind, either.

One of the not-so-colorful horses in the herd, the one that had been saying 'ta, ta, ta...' in the pony conversations... Vanished. Just like that.

"Gosh Rainbow Sunset, did you see that? What happened to Shiny Migraine?"

Rainbow Sunset, pitch black miniature pony of doom and despair, looks up from trying on some snow shoes. "Huh?"

"Shiny Migraine just vanished, didn't you see?"

"And not in a teleporting kind-of-way!" says a nervous random colorful pony.

Rainbow Sunset is either brilliant or dumb or feeling philosophical. "Oh, don't get your tail in a knot. You're not supposed to see something that vanishes. That's the whole point of vanishing, isn't it? Hmf."

"Erm. I guess..." says the pink unicorn, Lovestruck. Who couldn't get her tail in knot if she wanted to. She has the wrong style tail. She's part clefable, remember?

Sonic and the humans were not paying much attention to the horses but even if they had been, they would not have understood any of the pony speech. Poochyvana and the other pokemon in the area only caught about every other word since the horses had their own dialect.

As awesome as it was that the humans and animals got along, Sonic still felt that the whole situation was deranged. And the ponies still made him nervous. "How can pink unicorns with elemental attacks be considered normal anywhere?"

With care, Antoine manages to get out from behind and under the heap of shoe boxes. The pile of shoe boxes is now so large that nobody will notice his absence right away. "Does the pink unicorn HAVE elemental attacks? I didn't know that. The other horses - okay but... That's not the point, anyway." Antoine scowls down at the blue creature and tries out a parental tone. "Look, I don't believe for a minute that you're from another world. So you can drop the act. But it seems that your creators forgot to educate you on some basic... natural instincts. I mean... Here. Come with me."

Sonic goes with him, if only to get away from the ponies and the depressing lack of sneakers.

They leave the shoe store and go across the road to a television store. They know it is a television store because the window display is full of televisions. All of the televisions are switched on. The televisions are showing the highlights from an impromptu college football game right now but Antoine goes inside and gets permission to change the channel. Sonic doesn't have the chance to see anyone that he might have recognized.

"And now for a listing of our upcoming schedule..." says a newsanchor who looks as if he's managed to be in a car accident, even in a world that is basically without cars. The screen fades to a series of lists.

_Coming up next: young defenseless animals getting eaten by predators._

_Followed by: old defenseless animals getting eaten by predators, predators fighting with each other to stave off the boredom, humans annoying the predators at great risk to their own health and predators running for political offices in order to annoy the humans that they didn't eat._

_Tomorrow: Predators On Holiday - What Will They Eat Now?_

_The Day After That: Flower Arranging As An Essential Martial Art, Out Where the Grass is Greener and Fireproof, When Trees Attack, Insects Are Such Maniacs, Amphibians Are Scheming Against Us, Pet Rocks: The Silent Killers, Beauty Pagents In The Wilderness: You'd Be Surprised How Deadly They Are, Dogs vs. Cats, Hamsters vs. Canaries, Sheep vs. Elephants, Plants vs. Animals, Natural Disasters vs. Everything and Supernatural Disasters: Should They Actually Still Count As Natural?_

_Next Week: Revenge of the Zebra, parts 0-60._

_Next Month: Creatures Under the Sea And Why You Should Avoid Them._

_Next Year: Just How Many Rabbits Are There, Anyway?_

"Doesn't that sound exciting?" says the mauled anchorman once the last list has faded. "Thanks for watching NIN, the Natural Instincts Network, where we strive to remind you that unreal amounts of drama and violence are not only very real but just a normal part of daily life for rather a lot of creatures. And now for a word from one of our sponsers..."

"SEE!" says Antoine as the televisions go to a familiar shoe store commercial, filmed earlier. "Our world is not weird!"

Sonic has not understood a word of the lists but they were all accompanied by graphic video clips and mostly of things attacking each other.

He doesn't need to be told that the League has a separate channel for pokemon battles since those are so much more respectable and sporting, after all. And let's just not even mention the ever-growing list of channels dedicated to trying to explain the maybe-natural instincts of humanity.

Fourth wall? says Fate. What fourth wall? Did we ever have a fourth wall? Wasn't that a movie? It sounds like a movie. THAT THEY DIDN'T INVITE ME TO BE IN.

Antoine eleborates. "It's called 'survival of the fittest' and it is perfectly natural. It was happening even before pokemon existed! It is probably WHY pokemon existed in the first place. In which case, it's been going on since pre-prehistoric times. Because some of the dinosaurs were pokemon too." Antoine may be writing a paper on this subject for his classes. He is an aspiring professor, remember. "Don't you get it? If one wild animal develops elemental skills then all of the other wild animals have to find a way to match that power so that they can defend themselves and compete for resources. Unless they want to go extinct. And we've had so many animals go extinct already..."

"AHA!" Sonic is not about to let that pass. "So THEY needed to be saved, right? So your world IS in danger, yea? Cause if these animals keep getting stronger... You humans are gonna be extinct, right?"

Sonic has to stop and repeat that in his own head. _Ohmigosh... Am I gonna have to save PEOPLE from ANIMALS? But... I've never sided against the animals before! I mean... Shadow and Knuckles and those other guys don't count, right? Cause we've ended up working together. Against robots and monsters and humans and even aliens. And yea I've fought with some animals to defend myself but that was personal. That wasn't picking a side in what could be a large scale battle! Fighting against animals?! Do I even wanna..._

Antoine interrupts the internal debate. "Uhm. No. We HAVE the technology to resurrect extinct pokemon. We've decided that resurrection is an incredibly bad idea. Wild animals tend to have good reasons for going extinct. And they tend to level villages, towns and even major cities when we resurrect them. So instead we're just building new animals. Like you."

"No, NOT like me." Sonic grumbles, trying not to think of Vulpersian and then Tails. And the pink unicorn and then Amy. And the black horse and then Shadow. And then the human version of Shadow, who might have been hedgehog at some point. And what if somewhere there was a ... Sonic did not even want to speculate. This was giving him a headache. "And how is that natural again?"

Antoine is not sure if the sandwag is either very perceptive or very stupid. He takes a moment to assemble an answer that should be understandable either way. "Humans build tools. That's our greatest survival skill. Other animals use tools as well - but humans do it best. That's just the way things are."

Fate is somewhere off in the details, laughing at this. And wearing new shoes. Nobody in this scene hears Fate. Nobody can see Fate, either. Otherwise Sonic might have been tempted to steal the shoes.

"... So... How much of the animal kingdom did you just refer to as 'tools'?"

"Well, technically... It's not just the animals." Antoine goes into apprentice historian mode. He feels a duty to educate people and his voice switches to the tone he usually reserves for helping to answer questions during a school tour in the League Museum. "There's the plants and rocks and insects and... What? Uh. You've gone a bit pale. Are you all right?"

Sonic has covered his face with his hands. _I'm going to have to save a bunch of idiots from their own tools and they don't even see that they need to be saved? And they have all this weird technology but they apparently can't make sneakers?!_

"Did the ice cream not agree with you? I told you not to eat so much at once!" Antoine has been taught that sick pokemon can be even more dangerous than healthly pokemon because pokemon who are feeling ill don't tend to be reasonable. So Antoine speaks as a person who wants to live, a confessed softheart and a concerned citizen in general. "We can go back to the PokeCenter, if you..."

Sonic peers out from between his fingers and wishes he hadn't since that reminds him that he doesn't currently have gloves, either. "The hospital place?"

"Yes. It's called a PokeCenter."

_Why? Because they have giant needles?_ Sonic resisted the impulse to say and said instead. "Then NO. That would not make me feel better." _I am going to need gloves and sneakers and..._ Sonic inwardly acknowledged that this was not going to be a small job. Saving the world was not often a small job. Saving this bizarre place, whether or not the residents liked it... There were so many potential hazards... Sonic could do a lot of things on his own but... _I am going to need help._

Sonic thought about Vulpersian and then about Shadow, the human version. Those would have been his first choices. And the fact that any version of Shadow could have been a first choice for Sonic... Yea. That was another sign of just how thoroughly messed up the situation had become.

He doesn't know the half of it. Fate deadpans. And I had prospects, I tell you!

Anyway. Sonic knew where he'd last seen his first choices for teammates. He did not know not if they were still there or how to get back to that place. And Sonic had been knocked out when he'd been arrested by the horses so he didn't even know which path he'd been brought into the city on. He didn't know his way around the city, he didn't know it was called the Emerald City and he wasn't familiar with the landmarks outside the city either. And right across the street... Back inside the sneakerless shoe store... There was a rabid little sharkdog, a metallic insect, some other creatures that Sonic had tried to avoid seeing and didn't want to think about and a herd of colorful ponies, two of which now made him extra nervous. But... If they WERE tools... Then they were also part of the problem. He somehow had to save this world from these animals. And also from plants and rocks and insects and... He couldn't expect the animals to be eager to help, that was all. And, so far, there was only one human that could hear him.

So what Sonic currently had to work with, instead of his first choices, was this person named Antoine. Nobody else.

For now.

But even in this world, it takes some pretty special dimension bending to make a horse vanish. Without teleporting.

**ooxoo**

**P**rofessor Anita Dayoff, despite her name and reputation, did not actually get that many days off. When she wasn't working for the League then she was working for her family. Her family was large and in the business of revenge. It was quite time consuming - but rewarding. Revenge was sweet. And steady work, you had to admit. Not one of those jobs that would ever go out of style. League Historian? Yes, that was a nice piece of work too. History was all about conflict, so it had been a good match for her interests. But given the choice between studying the conflicts of the past or causing even minor conflicts right now...

You could say it was related, if you wanted. Educational. You could say that causing conflict improved her understanding and appreciation for studying history. Or vice versa. Sort of like the way that humans sometimes got together, dressed up in old-fashioned costumes and re-enacted famous battles...

She was one of those, as well.

Only... The battles that Anita tended to re-enact... Well. They weren't famous. Or even well known. Much less well documented. So Anita was basically making it up as she went. And she had better costumes and much more dramatic posing than had probably been the case, in reality.

She was striking a dramatic pose right now. And wearing a white uniform. It was not the right kind of white uniform to be called historically accurate but Anita didn't know that and she might not have cared. Though striking a series of dramatic poses while dressed up as an astronaut _was_ a bit challenging. She did it, anyway. And told the story of the battle. "They will fear our Level Ninety Nine Fishing Net of Triumph!"

Wheebok had an inexplicable feeling of deja vu.

The balloon snake spun its tail to steer its movement and this only worked indoors. Unless someone used a wind attack. And it didn't work very well, even without wind attacks, because the balloon part of the creature - the Wheezing part - was disproportionate to the main body. The part that looked like the balloon string, the Arbok, was the part that had brains. The creature wanted to slither. It couldn't. What brains Wheebok had did not cope well with levitating. And the tail was so large and constantly leaking little clouds of poison... Sometimes the snake wanted to go in one direction and ended up going in two others.

So of course Wheebok was absolutely fearsome, under the right battle conditions, because it could not have been any more disgruntled if it tried. Wheebok had some fairly serious grudges against life in general. And Wheebok could take out this anger on everything. Under the right battle conditions.

Anita owned three pokemon in total. Flight. Speed. Power. Er. Sort of. Wheebok levitated but that wasn't really flight, was it? No. Not without steering. The balloon snake was actually the power member. The other two, they had power as well but mainly they just created the right conditions for Wheebok to go on a destructive rampage. Ursatank had some good reflexs but mostly brains and could be skilled at tricking opponents. Squirtantler, the moose-reindeer-squirrel-kind-of-turtle with a shiny red nose, could fly and tended to just confuse opponents. Or trip over them. Still. Together, they could be devestating. Under the right conditions. Inside Gyms.

The absence of Ursatank... Yes, they had noticed. Yes, they had asked. Squirtantler didn't seem to care much but Squirtantler might not have cared if its own red nose fell off. Meanwhile Wheebok was geniunely upset. Even more than usual. The balloon snake wanted to destroy something and no one was around to help create the right conditions. Correction. No one that Wheebok _wanted _to ask for help was around to ask.

Anita didn't exactly live in the wilderness. Her house was few miles from the nearest small town but it wasn't a jungle out here or anything. The landscape was flat and grassy and not very interesting. It looked closer to being a farm than being a place where wild pokemon would turn up - but they did. Lots of them.

Ghosts.

There were nineteen confirmed wild species in the pokemon world and ten of those were ghosts. The other nine... A couple of rock types, a few insects. No plants. Even the wild plant type pokemon had gone extinct. Between natural disaster, natural instincts and humanity in general... The environment was getting better but what the world had, mostly, was ghosts. And they were wild. So the ghosts were protected both by law and by tradition. No one was allowed to catch the ghosts. No one was even supposed to fight them. It was illegal and considered disrespectful to the memory of the dead.

However there wasn't a law against listening to the ghosts. Or putting on a show for them. Anita had an audience. She thought of them as family.

Wheebok did not understand this. Ursatank had tried to explain it once. Humans were, despite their noted historic tendancy to declare war on nearly everything, social creatures. They could get sentimentally attached to anything, even inanimate objects. Some humans loved their cars so much that they called the car a pet. Some people loved their pets so much that they called their pets their kids. Stuff like that. The logic added up worse than algebra. So if your car was your pet but your pet was your kid then your car was also your kid? Huh? Then you ended up with kids on leashes and pets in carwashes and cars being left in daycares. And yet among human society that had been considered normal. Was it any wonder that mythology had to be deranged?

For better or worse, the pokemon world had significantly less cars these days. Cleaning up the environment may have reduced some of the confusion. Or not.

But ghosts? Wouldn't it be more...traditional...to run away? Or have bad dreams? You weren't supposed to cuddle them. Wheebok felt fairly certain about that. However... Professor Anita Dayoff was the best investigative League Historian, maybe ever. Because she was ridiculously persistant. Also, she cuddled ghosts. She listened to them. And treated them like family. And it was a large family. She didn't have much need for modern technology and online social networks, with such a family to draw information from.

Wheebok was not a great fan of the ghosts but he lived with them. And the ghosts had helped to make his trainer successful. So he was living in modest comfort because of them, in a way. Well. He was disgruntled about everything but he wasn't homeless, that's what he meant. The balloon snake had some fairly serious grudges against life in general but that did not make him a fan of death. That's what we're getting at. Wheebok was equal opportunity with his outrage. He had some fairly serious grudges against death, as well.

Oh and yes, Wheebok was without gender but he was not going to tolerate being called an 'it'. And he would try to attack anything that dared to mention the name that his trainer had given him. His favorite snack... Wheebok couldn't even eat it anymore. That's how disgusted he was, to be named after food. It gave the wrong impression in battle, to be named after food. He was not edible!

"And so the Rare and Dangerous Village accepted its reservation for defeat!" Anita finished the skit and bowed, as if an actor on a stage.

She had failed in her mission, today. As usual. And then she had tried to claim that the failure was an intentional part of her grand diabolical plan. Also as usual. And they all knew she didn't really have a plan - grand, diabolical or otherwise. So doing the re-enactment, putting on the show and retelling the old stories with purely accidental new twists... This was Anitas way of trying to cheer up the ghosts who had given her the mission. They couldn't fire her because not many other people heard them anymore and even less people listened to them. People generally avoided ghosts. Even before the ghosts had been protected species, people had generally avoided them.

Pokemon avoided them too. And wild animals. Even some wild plants avoided the ghosts.

The ghosts didn't like being avoided. They had issues to work out too, after all. They'd been respected monsters once. Why not? Ghosts... By their nature - or supernature or lack of nature - they did not share the same physical limitations that most of their living opponents did. And that was a great advantage, in battle. It would have been foolish to ignore such useful creatures. And humans were capable of being foolish, yes but still...

With all the disaster and extinctions, the ghost population had grown. Things had been dying for ages, too - it was traditional, among mortals and was so popular that even some curious immortals had given it a try. So the ghosts, they'd had a considerable population to begin with. And more were always joining the ranks. But then the League rules had changed and the protection of wild species laws had passed and... All these grumpy restless lost souls. Nowhere to go. All these useful skills. Nothing to officially use them for. What kind of respect to the dead was ignoring them? The ghosts didn't like being ignored.

In life, these creatures had been many different species but death had converted them in to one of ten shapes. In life, they'd been all different personalities but after several long years of being resolutely ignored by more or less everyone... The ghosts would have signed up for any club that anyone had invited them to join. They'd been so happy to be acknowledged again. Some of them had actually been in Team Rocket while alive and others had joined posthumorously but... All of them were pokemon. Er. Former pokemon. They'd been pokemon while alive and they were still pokemon, now. Ghostly ones.

There were around a hundred new species of genetically made pokemon in the world. But there had been rejects. Species that had been destroyed. They were ghosts now. This was the only way for humans to create new ghost types, actually. None of the living pokemon were ghost types. Being alive went against the basic definition of being a ghost. And you couldn't just build them from genetic samples. Because science had not even tried to figure out a way to collect DNA samples from ghosts.

Nature was very good at doing things that science couldn't, however. But we'll get back to that later.

Team Rocket, it must be pointed out, had been a global criminal organization. It had always had more than two members in it. And even when it had been shut down and come back again, more than once... The organization had never stayed small for long. So all kinds of trainers had been in and out of the group, some more successful than others. And their pokemon... For every single human trainer that had ever been in Team Rocket there had been at least one monster. Commonly, there had been two or three or more. And this is very important. Because Team Rocket, poetry and goals of profit aside... Had been committed to using pokemon for evil. Against other pokemon. Humans could commit evil but why should humanity do all the dirty work? Why not fight pokemon with pokemon?

Hey - the League did it. When you got right down to the philosophical nitty gritty... What separated the League from Team Rocket?

To the living, the lines between good and bad could seem clear cut. To the dead... Well. They'd had time to notice that the line was blurry and maybe not even a line at all. And to the pokemon the main difference between the League and Team Rocket had never been much more than: _What kind of uniform is the person screaming orders at me wearing?_ and _Do I get to blast off again or should we just take the bus?_

So the ghosts had recruited Anita to their cause. And they weren't even entirely certain what their cause was yet. Anita wasn't the only one without a constant plan around here. Revenge in general had just seemed like a good starting point. Defeating as many Gyms as possible had seemed like a sensible next step. Anitas pokemon team worked so well together that the ghosts didn't even feel compelled to help in battle. Much. The ghosts steered Wheebok sometimes and got Squirtantlers attention, when needed. But mostly they just watched and cheered or shouted advice. The ghosts were former pokemon. They knew the rules of battle. They wanted to win as legitamately as possible. They didn't want their...er...Anitas victory being something that got questioned or revoked. It had to be official. Revenge was extra sweet when it was legal and official.

For this reason, they didn't follow her around either. The ghosts had telepathy. They could communicate with Anita from anywhere so they didn't need to always be trailing her. Even when they were trailing her, they were ghosts. They could go invisible. Nobody needed to see them. If Anita wasn't seen with ghosts, it made her look more legal and official - right?

Professor Anita Dayoff was not a ghost. She was not possessed. She was a short lady with purple standing-on-end pigtails, large round glasses and freckles. She was older than she looked and MUCH older than she'd ever act. She'd outlived some of the people that she cared for. Those people - their ghosts were not here. If people even became ghosts. Anita was not sure what she believed about that. Maybe humans didn't become ghosts. Or maybe if they did then there just wasn't room for them to stay in this dimension. There were so many non-human ghosts, in this dimension.

These ghosts that she thought of as family - they were all former pokemon. Anita considered it an honor to work with - and sometimes cuddle with - them. She didn't understand why people ignored them, that seemed cruel. The whole 'we used to let you be in battles but now we won't, as if you're no good anymore'... That wasn't fair. She didn't have a lot of sense sometimes but she did have a sense of justice. Anita wanted to stand up for the rights of the ghosts. She wanted for trainers to be legally allowed to have ghosts on their teams again, someday. And if she could be relatively (in)famous, make a profit occasionally and have a family to belong to along the way - why not?

It was hard work but it was worth giving up the days off, sometimes.

The ghosts knew that Anita needed Ursatank. Or something to replace that monster. Ordering and training a new pokemon would take time and travel...

Squirtantler could be ridden. Squirtantler ran, flew and could even swim. However riding on Squirtantler could give new meaning to phrases such as 'reckless driving' and 'off-road adventure' and 'sorry, that's not covered by your medical insurance'. So traveling _safely_... Required money. If only Anita had succeeded in her mission. Okay, so the ghosts wanted her victory to be legal and official. But legal, official AND soon - the ghosts did not want to have to wait forever. They'd already gotten a good start on waiting forever. That's why they were grumpy. Revenge was sweet but waiting for it wasn't.

Her target had been the Vulpersian.

Anita could not use a stolen pokemon in any legal and official battles but Vulpersian could summon money out of nowhere. Anita could have used the money to buy other pokemon. She could have used the money to travel far and wide, challenging the Gyms that she hadn't gotten to visit yet. She would have needed to be careful with her spending, of course. Having too much money would draw unwanted attention. But as a League Historian... Anita was employed, she had an income. So a little bit of extra spending... Who would ask questions? All that she would have had to do was claim that she'd been saving up. Plus Anita was respected as an investigative historian. So people might not even ask questions. People might just assume that the League was funding her travel, that it was part of her job.

It was such a cunning plan that - at least for now - the ghosts wanted to stick with it. They hadn't had (m)any cunning plans before.

Wheebok listened to the instructions. Squirtantler was mentally elsewhere. Anita accepted the challenge. Team Rocket blasted off again. To denounce the evils of truth and love.

**ooxoo**

**V**ulpersian was not sure what was going on. From inside a pokeball, it was hard to tell. Being inside a pokeball was a new experience and not a fun one. Vulpersian felt claustrophobic. Among other things.

You never realized how complex and interesting the whole world was until it was, in a sense, taken away.

Pokeballs did not come with a place to store your snacks or a video game to play while you waited for something to happen. There wasn't even a place to sleep or a restroom. It was so inconsiderate. It couldn't be healthy. No ground, no sky, no sunshine, no weather. Nobody to talk to, listen to or fight with. Just... Nothing. And you. Trapped. That was a pokeball. It was worse than solitary confinement. In solitary confinement, you could maybe hear the outside world. In solitary confinement, you could see the door that you'd come in through. In solitary confinement you might still be able to get room service, healthcare and voting rights. And you might at least have some idea about why you were being held in solitary confinement.

The pokeball offered none of this.

Vulpersian was not a mechanical genius but even Vulpersian could have invented a better pokeball.

It just wasn't fair.

No, you don't understand. It really really wasn't fair.

The League scientists at the Testing Facility, those people were trainers. They had pokemon. The Phan series - the elephants. The wardens. So even Vulpersian knew... That once a pokemon had been captured... It only took once. The pokeball was a terrible weapon. It had some vicious... Vulpersian didn't even know the words. But what it came down to was this: a trainer could hold up a pokeball and push the button and automatically recapture any pokemon that had been captured with that pokeball before. So if a pokemon got caught at all then it was caught for life. It was as if the pokeball had a memory. The only ways for a pokemon to escape once captured were death or destroying the pokeball. And death wasn't even guaranteed to work. Because ghosts had been contained by the pokeballs too, back when it had been legal for trainers to use ghosts.

So Vulpersian wasn't just trapped in a cramped and empty space but trapped in a cramped and empty space that would be able to... And size was an issue as well. Vulpersian was a small pokemon but even Vulpersian was larger than a pokeball. In order for a creature larger than a pokeball to be inside a pokeball... The pokeball didn't just have memory, it had the ability to compress a living thing. A living thing with elemental attacks. But once the pokeball sealed... None of those attacks worked in here. No attacks could even be launched.

It was like being banished to another dimension.

Ghosts would have been better equipped to deal with this. Ghosts did not have the same needs and physical limitations as living creatures. Vulpersian was a living creature. Vulpersian did not want that vital statistic to change.

If Vulpersian ever got out of here then Vulpersian was going to want to commit a whole lot more violence than just destroying the pokeball.

Who had the pokeball? Whose pocket was the monster in? Vulpersian had no idea and it almost didn't make a difference. No matter who had the pokeball, being inside the pokeball was miserable. But the person who had the pokeball, if it was a person... What were their intentions? With nothing to do but speculate, Vulpersian speculated. Might the person want to train Vulpersian? Was this the first step to glory, travel and becoming a respected warrior? Or was this the first step to extinction? Had the League decided to reject and destroy Vulpersian as a species? What kind of humans were they, that they'd keep the annoying Echidna and destroy Vulpersian? How dare they!

Vulpersians opinion of humanity overall took a significant turn for the worse.

And then, with a nauseating flash of light and disorienting size-altering tingly sensation... Vulpersian was released.

"Hi there, little critter!" says Jim, the geeky number one League Champion who practically has an office at the Testing Facility.

_...oh no..._ Vulpersian thinks as soon as it is able to gather its wits. _...I've been collected._

"League says you've got to stay with me for a bit, for protection." Jim always talks to his pokemon. And he's thrilled to have such a rare animal in his care. "So why dontcha make yourself comfy? My home is your home!"

Next to what some of the Champions a hundred years ago had been to their cultures, Jim is not a huge celebrity. But he had been at this for a while and the job came with a good income. And people were always sending him either tokens of admiration or products to endorse. He didn't have as many admirers as some of the other, more mysterious, champions but he was the official number one League Champion - and that mattered in marketing.

Vulpersian takes a look around and recovers some respect for humanity. _... On the other paw, this might not be awful._

**ooxoo**

**E**vening had fallen. A popular new shoe store in Emerald City was closed for the day. They would have had to close, even if it wasn't closing time. The customers were gone and so was all the merchandise. They'd sold all the shoes. They'd sold all the ice cream. They'd already had offers on the property and had been in talks to sell the whole business. A cash register had exploded from overwork, so the only thing in the building aside from a pair of people was a pile of money.

Boris sat on the floor, depressed. The pile of money was taller than him. "I no believe we fail again!"

Natasha does a comforting pat-on-the-back version of: 'Don't worry, Darling.'

Once, they had cared about the money. Correction. They still cared about the money. Natasha was fashion conscious and liked to shop. Which was fantastic because Boris, Master of Disguise, didn't much care for shopping and didn't make his own costumes. Not that a lack of money had ever prevented them from shopping. So yes, they cared about taking other peoples money - but not so much about having the money. They'd never actually had problems with money. Boris literally had a degree in being a Master Criminal. He'd graduated with honors. Natasha may have attended the school of hard knocks and fashion design but Boris was a certified expert at lock and pocket picking. Thus even when they were broke, they could steal whatever they needed. And even when they had money, they'd steal anyway out of professional pride.

Most of their invented business-traps had been quite profitable and yet neither of these outlaws had retired to lives of luxury. Why? Simple. Professional pride. Being a criminal wasn't just a career but a lifestyle. Also, they were loyal minions. Even if they'd wanted to quit - and they didn't - they probably couldn't have survived quitting. The organization that they were in might have given them a traditional farewell.

Therefore whatever money they made, they didn't keep. Jessie and James had never given much back to Team Rocket. Boris and Natasha practically worked for free and whenever they made a pile of money - they gave it to the boss. Because the boss was fearless. They weren't.

"Fearless Leader gonna be so mad!" Boris tugged anxiously at his hat. "And that Robotnik guy, I bet! He killin two animals for us. We only had to kill one for him. And we fail! Natasha, what we doin wrong?"

Natasha shrugs. She could answer but the reply would be a novel and reading it wouldn't make her fellow minion feel any better.

"Hm. Maybe Fearless Leader can tell us what to do now." Boris reasons, trusting the criminal that he's worked for longer the most and not trusting Robotnik as easily. That Robotnik guy, he might be an evil genius - which Boris admired - but he dabbled with way too much tehnology for Boris to comprehend. "Fearless Leader always have plan."

So Boris and Natasha gathered up the money, earnestly hoping that it would be enough of an apology to make up for their failure yet again and went to report their mission status.

Not even ten minutes after they were out of sight from the shoe store, a delivery truck pulled up. It was labeled: You'll Get Them Next Time, Delivery Services.

The truck driver hopped out of his vehicle - hydro powered - and banged on the shoe store door. "Hey! Anybody home? Ya gotta sign for this shipment from Nothing But Sneakers World! Hello?"

Nobody was there to answer.

**ooxoo**

**A**ntoine was on a train. There was band named Train aboard somewhere and they were having a jam session with at least eight other bands and an Elvis impersonator who was not from europe, so it was noisy. The night train was essentially a mobile concert. A soul train but with an actual emphasis on rock and nearly every other style of music accounted for. There were a lot of passengers.

Due to the train being so crowded, Antoine had not been able to get off at Ketchum Town. So he was stuck on board until the train reached the next station and hopefully he could get off there and catch a different train home. Right now... The geography of the world had changed, over the past hundred years but some things hadn't changed too much. Emerald City, Ketchum Town - those were in the Kanto region but they were not centrally located. So even though the train was still on the land known as the Indigo Plateau, it was not the Kanto region anymore. If you went west from the Kanto region, you ended up in the Johto region. Ketchum Town was located close to the ruins of what had once been called Pewter City. If you went west then you crossed what was left of the Pewter Mountains. If you missed getting off at Ketchum Town then it would be a couple of hours before the next stop.

The next stop was Blackthorn City, a place that had kept its original name. The long history of natural and man-made disasters had altered the shape of landscape around Blackthorn but there was still a large lake a few miles outside the mountainous city and an infamous cave system underneath parts of it.

Antoine would have liked to sleep but he didn't want to miss the next stop and there was too much noise on the train. Besides, he had to keep an eye on his bicycle and also had to keep telling a certain disgrunted blue animal not to steal anyones shoes.

"Who were those people that you ran away from earlier?" Sonic asked, after the latest fit of uncomfortable silence between them. With all the noise on board, they'd not been able to have much conversation.

"I did not run away." grumbled Antoine.

Thea, some of her own gym assistants, Professor Carmen and even a few members of the police force had - once they were finished shoe shopping - gotten into an argument about who should get the credit for turning Sonic in. Because all of them were fans of a certain mysterious League Champion and so all of them had wanted the honor of meeting him. They assumed that since that particular Champion had publically taken a special interest in tracking the blue animal, they'd get to meet him when they turned it in.

Antoine had not really run but had walked away from the dispute. He'd been tired and unable to reason with anybody. He had also not been expecting for the sandwag to follow him. Antoine had intended to leave the sandwag there, so that once the argument was resolved then the creature could be turned in by someone. But Sonic had followed him. Possibly just to get away from the ponies, poochyvana and all the people that he didn't understand.

There wasn't very good phone service on the train when it went through the mountains. So Antoine didn't have a way to make or recieve calls at the moment. And they wouldn't look for him, in Blackthorn City because everyone who knew him would assume that he'd just gone home to Ketchum Town. That he'd gotten off at the right stop. He had tried. Still, even with the plan to get off and turn around at the next stop... Antoine felt like a fugitive. That was not a good feeling. He blamed Sonic for this entire mess but hadn't bothered to explain the entire mess to Sonic. Antoine didn't think the animal would understand. The sandwag didn't seem too bright, in his opinion. Antoine was a little surprised that there was so much fuss over capturing this creature. He couldn't seem to get rid of it.

Sonic sat with his arms crossed and his eyes closed. It was hard to know if he was listening to the music or trying to figure out how to save the world or falling asleep from the boredom of sitting still. Maybe some combination of all the above. He was shorter than the humans and he was sitting next to Antoine, behind a bicycle. So barely anyone had even noticed Sonic, except for when he'd tried to take their shoes.

Antoine kept hoping that the animal would walk away and get lost in the crowd - that the sandwag would stop being his problem. If the entire League was looking for it... That was a lot of people. With pokemon. And... Antoine was an aspiring League employee. He knew about the rankings. Thea was a high ranked Gym Leader. She was not number one but she was close. If Thea were to shut down her own Gym and go to challenge a couple other Gyms... That's what happened, with Gym Leaders. That's how the Gyms got ranked. They could challenge each other. The Gym Leader ranking, it changed fairly often. There was a group that seemed to take turns at being number one.

The League Champion ranking was far more stable.

It was hard not to know about Jim, when you were an apprentice historian. Jim loved research and visited the museum as much as his busy schedule allowed. Even if Antoine had pursued a different career... The League Champions... To say it was a small group... Yes and no. There were around sixty Gyms in the world and that sounded like a lot but it wasn't really. The world was a big place. There were towns and cities and even whole regions that didn't have an official Gym. With Champions, the same logic applied. There were a lot of League Champions but they had a lot of territory to cover, they were spread out all over the world. And the League Champions... Even with so many of them in the world... There could only be ten in the top ten. Hence the ranked group was fairly small and elite.

Jim, the number one Champion, happened to be a resident of - and thus responsible for - the Kanto region. There were other Champions in Kanto but Jim was the highest ranked and so you might even end up with him there, to witness a local Gym Challenge. Any trainer from the Kanto region... You had to have Jim sign off on the final approval, in order to become an official trainer. When Jim signed off... After you'd graduated from the mandatory classes... He'd casually remind you that the League reserved the right to take a pokemon away from a trainer at any time. And if you were in the Kanto region when you broke the law... If the Gym Leaders, the other League employees and the police didn't catch up to you first... If you weren't named Professor Dayoff... Then you'd be answering to Jim and he was a reasonably nice guy - but he'd defeat you.

If you were in the Johto region...

The Champions were spread out all over the world. Jim lived in Kanto because he wanted to be closer to the Indigo Plateau, the Museum and the New Species Testing Facility. Most of the other ranked Champions had either been assigned a region to take charge of or had taken up residence near the location of the League Headquarters. So most of the other ranked Champions were far away. The exception of course, was number three. Who lived in the Johto region.

Antoine really just wanted to go home.

The caves under and around Blackthorn City had been infamous for a long time. There had been an immense cave system once - it had been so big that different sections had been given separate names. Victory Road. Dragons Den. For a while, the League had required any trainer wishing to challenge the League to survive coming through the caves first. It was hard to imagine the magnitude of that chore. The wild pokemon that had once inhabited these areas had been just terrifying. Even trained pokemon had struggled to compete with their strength. Those pokemon were all extinct, now. And most of the immense maze had collapsed and caved in over time but... What remained of those caves were a historic site, these days. And the Champion who looked after the historic site... Was not only ranked but feared.

League Champion number three - she had a nickname. She was called the Dragon Lady.

When two objects moving in opposite directions pass each other... From where Sonic was sitting, it sounded as if the train that he was on passed another train going in the other direction. Then he remembered something, opened his eyes, turned and looked out the window.

It was the mountains. Even in the darkness of night, you could tell the landscape was steep and narrow. There was only one set of train tracks.

Antoine had gone pale with paranoia. He was innocent, he knew but he currently suspected that everyone was out to get him anyway and was cringing as if he half expected something to either derail the trail or land on it.

Sonic was not at all reassured by this behavior. "What WAS that?"

Antoine waited a few more minutes before straightening up and peering out the window into the darkness. His heart was still racing. The train was undisturbed. The passengers were cheering and pointing at the windows, a heavy metal band was playing their own version of something classical - _Ride of the Valkyrie _- to capture the mood and the other bands joined in. The mobile concert continued.

"I don't even want to be seen with you right now!" hissed Antoine. The train being untouched did not make him feel safer. "You're not even an approved species! I'd be in so much trouble..."

"That doesn't answer my question, Tony."

"The NAME is Antoine." growled Antoine. _Not only did they not teach this animal how to recognize a League Champion, they forgot to teach it manners. It MUST have been built by criminals._ His hands were shaking. Antoine leaned the bike against the seat and stuffed his hands into his pockets, trying to conceal how shaken he was. And of course inside one of his pockets... Was the pokeball. The PokeCenter had given it back to him. So the thought occurred: _Hang on, I don't HAVE to be seen with this creature..._

"..Uh... Tony? What is-"

Sonic would have had the speed to sidestep - but he didn't have the room. And the pokeball didn't care about speed, anyway. All that mattered to the pokeball was that this creature had been caught before. Recapture was automatic.

_I'll just turn it in at the... Wow. _Antoine was surprised at how much resistance the sandwag was putting up. The pokeball was rocking but the seal on the device held. Antoine shook his head and, as a confessed softheart, felt awful. Escape was not an option, why was it struggling? Didn't the animal even know about pokeballs? Hadn't the criminals taught it ANYTHING? _It's for your own good, sandwag._ Antoine thought, glad to have a plan for getting rid of the creature but mildly sorry that this was the plan. _And for my good, too. I'm not an outlaw! I have to go to work tomorrow!_ He pocketed the pokeball, sat behind his bicycle and tried not feel sick. He still expected to be arrested at any moment.

It would be a long while before the pokeball stopped moving.

**ooxoo**

**E**chidna was NOT paralyzed. This had taken a few groggy moments to become aware of. Echidna had fallen asleep and Pikadatuffree had, in the manner of a creature who has to be even more adorable when sleeping, curled up atop the mythical monsters head. Echidna could not see what was on top of her own head. Hence, Echidna had recovered the ability to move.

_Why didn't I think of this sooner?!_

The challenge now was to move without waking the Pikadatuffree. And maybe... If Echidna was very careful... She could grab the adorable little creature... And fling it into a distant horizon.

Such a simple plan and yet so flawed.

The humans were calling to the elephants and the elephants were calling to each other. This was the noise that had woken Echidna. She was taller than the grass and could see that the elephants were being gathered. The scientists were holding up their pokeballs. The wardens were being recaptured. It was almost like the humans didn't want their pokemon to be in the way of something else. What was going on? Echidna had lived in the meadows for a while and she had never seen the humans recall the wardens before. Not like this. Not all at once.

Pikadatuffree woke up, yawned and stretched cutely.

"...would you mind just staying on my head...?" Echidna ventured in a disappointed screamy-roar while lowering her arm-like appendages and privately thinking that with a couple extra seconds, she could have flung the adorable little animal into the distant horizon. Then, with slightly more authority, she added. "I mean... If I'm the mom... Then you have to do what I tell you... Right?"

Pikadatuffree did not seem to be paying attention.

A breeze picked up and rippled through the tall grass. A silhouette descended from the night sky. It was not small. The creature had a long coiled body, as if it were a furry snake but it also had a incredible wingspan, four sets of talons, three sickle-shaped antlers and glowing slanted diamonds for eyes.

Being half dratini, Echidna was able to recognize that this was not truly a dragon but it certainly looked the part.

Dragons had always been popular but very few trainers could survive their moodswings and even fewer trainers could afford to take proper care of one. Many genetic variations on the dragon had been attempted. Three had been approved. The genius of this particular genetic blend... Which wasn't even technically a dragon type... Was that it ate rocks. The creature looked like something that could eat a train. It looked like something could derail a train accidentally by sneezing. It looked like something that the ancient cultures of other dimensions would have either worshipped or offered cattle to - but it ate rocks. It was a rock type.

Pikadatuffree started to bounce up and down on the Echidnas head. "YAY! Isn't this great, Mom? I didn't think that I'd ever get to see them again!"

Echidna felt a chill and it wasn't just from her own icy shroud. "...what exactly do you mean by 'again'?"

"Oh, that's right." said Pikadatuffree in a cute but clueless voice. "You weren't here when they captured me the first time. I mean, they could have just asked me nicely to go in the prison but they wanted to play instead and..."

"It took THAT to capture you the first time?!" Echidnas screamy-roar was up a couple octaves.

"Well, the others helped." Pikadatuffree admitted, cute as ever. "And they were trying so hard to defeat me, I didn't want them to be upset or get in trouble so I just..."

A human was sitting aboard the fearsome looking faux-dragon, seated behind the creatures massive head. A female human. She was gripping an antler with one hand and holding a phone to her ear with her other hand. "...okay. bye."

League Champion number three. She wasn't very talkative. She was a young adult, old enough to have graduated from high school and yet she still wore the uniform. She had long dark hair and it hung straight down. Dragon Lady wasn't her real name but she had a sort-of-dragon that she rode around on. Therefore even though she also had several other types of pokemon on her team, she was called the Dragon Lady. She'd run a Gym, in the past and dragons had not even been the symbol of her Gym. She'd had a zodiac symbol, for her Gym badge. But so few trainers had wanted to challenge her... She'd eventually just closed her Gym and become a ranked League Champion instead.

The not-exactly-a-dragon roared. It even sounded like a dragon.

It was a Mawsolaeronix. However even Mawlie, Absol, Aerodactyl and Onix would have agreed that this was a mouthful to say. So when the creature roared, it did not usually repeat its name. The sound was a soul-wrenching, blood-curdling, I-could-eat-you-if-I-wanted-to roar to everyone and everything that heard it.

The elephants had been gathered by their trainers. The new species that hadn't run away or burrowed underground were standing transfixed in terror. Except for Pikadatuffree, who was still bouncing around happily on the Echidnas head.

And except for Echidna, who was thinking: _...if it's basically a rock type...ow...then...ow..._ "Would you STOP that?! My head is not a trampoline!"

"Deathwish." said an excessively cute voice.

Echidna nearly froze herself. Even the not-an-official-dragon backed away.

Pikadatuffree laughed sweetly. "Kidding!"

The humans watching this scene wondered why all of the pokemon fell over. Especially the Dragon Lady, who had not gotten off her pokemon.

"That was NOT funny!" Echidna shrieked.

The Dragon Lady stood on the ground now. She was clenching her fists and trembling. One of her fists was bandaged up. The League scientists had called her to the Testing Facility and even they backed away from her because they thought she was kind of scary and had probably been in a fight. They did not realize that she was very shy, couldn't see that she was blushing a little and had no idea that she'd actually been bandaged up from trying to pet an animal that had bitten her. Dragon Lady was, in truth, as nice a person as Jim. Maybe even nicer. She just happened to look tough and didn't say much and rode around on a sort-of-dragon, so people assumed that she was scary - and in battle, her pokemon could be - but... Dragon Lady also had a weakness for cute things. What the people around her saw as shaking with silent anger - no. In truth, it just tended to make her shaky to be around such cuteness. And so even with Pikadatuffree currently inside a shroud... The mere fact that this radiantly adorable little animal was perched on another creatures head... The cuteness factor was so blatant. Dragon Lady had to grit her teeth and clench her fists just to resist the impulse to whip out a camera and start taking pictures. She eventually managed to recover a bit, did a dramatic point-at-the-target pose and nodded to her not-an-official-dragon.

Mawsolaeronix made a very scary face.

Pikadatuffree was frightened.

Echidna was not. "That's an actual attack?!"

Mawsolaeronix tried to look even scarier.

"I will not let you hurt my Mom!" squeaked Pikadatuffree bravely. And cutely.

"...ma?" roared the not-entirely-a-dragon, as if saying. 'You know, I've always wanted one of those...'

Echidna was not having any of this and attacked. It began to snow.

Unfortunately, the not-exactly-a-dragon did know some other attacks. Fortunately, so did Pikadatuffree. And while this possible sibling rivarly was being violently but cutely explored, a heap of coins disappeared from the meadows. Someone was going to be worth their weight in slightly melted gold.

**ooxoo**

**A**ntoine had arrived - and had managed to detrain - at the Blackthorn City train station. It was night time in the mountains, cold and dark. The station was well lit but there wasn't much to shield a person from the winds. And there weren't many people around. The station wasn't empty but it wasn't crowded and most of the people around were employees. They were sitting in the information kiosks or sweeping up the platform or doing security patrols. And some of the security people had fierce looking pokemon with them, on leashes. With muzzles.

The Elvis impersonator had gotten off here as well and was standing on a distant corner of the platform, singing while he waited for another train. "Well, you can knock me down... step in my face... slander my name all over the place. Do anything that you want to do but uh-uh, honey, lay off of my shoes. Don't you step on my blue suede shoes..."

What few other passengers there were at the station had gathered around the musician and were clapping to the beat.

Antoine sat alone with his bicycle and tried not to think about a certain blue creature who seemed to have a shoe obsession.

He was also trying to work up the courage to just go over to the nearest information kiosk and lie. It shouldn't be hard. He could turn in the pokeball to lost and found, say that it must have been left behind by some careless traveler and walk away. Yes, Antoine had already been seen with the sandwag but... Nobody here knew that, did they? He could just leave the pokeball and get back to his comfortable routines. Go back home, get some sleep and go to work tomorrow. If Thea or Professor Carmen or anyone else asked, Antoine could deny that he'd seen the animal recently. That would be another lie and wouldn't impress anyone but they'd have to believe it. 'Oh, did the sandwag follow me? I didn't see it. Sorry.' That sounded believable. Antoine currently wished that he hadn't seen the animal, that much was true. So it wasn't a total lie, perhaps.

Antoine fidgeted. He was still focused on the information kiosk. Trying to decide. He felt that he ought to do something but couldn't bring himself to move. Antoine was twenty-seven and he'd never been wanted by the law for anything, except for the time when they'd tried to hire him to be a police officer. The closest that he'd ever come to breaking the law had been once when he'd parked his bicycle in a no-bicycle zone and that had been an innocent misunderstanding since someone had edited the sign. So even just to have an illegal pokemon in his pocket... His imagination was dwelling on all the worst case scenarios. If he turned in the pokeball at the kiosk, would they open it before he left? Would he be arrested? Would he be interrogated? If the police found out that he was from the Kanto region - and that wouldn't be difficult, just a glance through his wallet could confirm that - then that would make it look as if he was a fugitive, wouldn't it? As if he were running away under the cover of night. Smuggling the unapproved animal across borders.

Even if the law didn't punish him... Even if the League didn't suspend him... But Antoine could not convince himself that he would be in the clear. Probably all the real criminals claimed that they were innocent and so if a truly innocent person did the same then it would make them look like a real criminal, wouldn't it?

And even if he somehow managed to leave the pokeball here and get back to his normal life... What would they do to the animal?

The League might destroy it.

Or they might eventually approve it and send the sandwag into mass production.

Antoine wasn't sure which option was worse. He didn't like the sandwag but he didn't hate the animal so much that he could feel great about handing it over to people who could essentially erase it from existence. And if the League approved the sandwag... Then there might eventually end up being hundreds or thousands of these animals. And since the others would be made from cloning the original, they'd probably all have an inherited grudge against him.

He drummed his fingers lightly against the pokeball in his pocket. _Why did I have to be the person who understood you, sandwag?_

And what if someone else understood it, once he turned the animal in? How much would the sandwag accuse him of? Would he be framed? No. Not likely. How could anyone take such an uneducated creature seriously?

Whether or not the world needed to be saved, Antoine did not even want to speculate. As badly informed as the sandwag had been on so many other subjects... Antoine was not inclined to believe any of the creatures claims. The poor animal had to be delusional. Hopefully the League would realize the creatures shortcomings and at least fix sandwags intellect, before they cloned it. If they approved the species. If Antoine turned the sandwag in.

The entire League was after this animal. That mysterious Champion, in particular and Antoine was not a fan of that guy. But the mysterious champion wasn't even highly ranked. Jim, on the other hand, was number one. And if the Dragon Lady, number three, was after the sandwag as well by now... Antoine assumed that she was but Antoine didn't get League messages, so he didn't know that Dragon Lady had actually been called over to re-contain the Pikadatuffree. Still. He couldn't keep the illegal animal and go home, he felt. There was no way to hide the animal and go home. And the animal was probably going to attack him anyway, the minute it was released - Antoines trainer classes had warned him about this - so... Where could he go? Who knew anything about defying the League? Antoine didn't want to be an outlaw. That really wouldn't impress anyone and he already had other plans for the future and...

Would Thea be among those who came after him, at least?

_What am I thinking? She'd kill me! I don't want to be noticed THAT badly._ Antoine told himself but he knew as well, this was a lie. He didn't want to be an outlaw but he did love Thea enough to... Well. Would being an outlaw impress her? No. Probably not. Almost certainly not. Antoine didn't want to risk his job anyway and...

Oh. That's right. He worked with someone who knew about defying the League. Sort of.

Professor Anita Dayoff.

_I just hope that she answers her phone..._ Antoine sighed and dialed.

**ooxoo**


	8. 4:2

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**4:2**

**T**ails was on a different continent. In a desert. More than one continent has a desert, after all. He was not on the Roadrunners back. Not anymore. He could handle some speed but not that much. He'd let go. He had to catch his breath. So Tails was laying in the sand of an unfamiliar country and trying not to think about anything. He was dizzy and out of breath and hoping that maybe if he resolutely ignored the situation, it would go away.

The tall bird had not gone away. Not for long. The Roadrunner had left him and come back, several times. Always smiling. Always trying to start another chase.

Kitsunes had lore. Coyotes had lore. Roadrunners in general did not have as much lore. Except for this one. This one had supernatural amounts of lore. This particular roadrunner... THE Roadrunner was older than it looked and MUCH older than it would ever act. And that was BEFORE a chaos emerald had decided to fuse with it. And... We'll have to get back to this later.

But not even The Master Emerald would have ever stood a chance.

Oh, all right. A hint. Think mythology. Squared.

Unmitigated genius though he was, Tails thought in mechanics. Not mythology. Therefore, he was doomed. He honestly had no idea how doomed he was. And since Tails honestly had no idea how doomed he was, he didn't worry about it. Instead he worried about his underground workshop. How would he get back to it? How long would it take to clear enough space to start working on inventions again? What could he build with train parts? What _couldn't_ he build with train parts? What about the project that he'd been working on earlier? Would he ever get back to working on that? It would be nice to finish that and...

Lets see, muses Fate. Flight... Speed... So all we need... Ooo. That rhymed!

The Roadrunner could have gone to any desert. Why had it come to this one? Had it been running for the sheer joy of running? Had it been trying to turn the kitsune inside out from speed? Or did it know what was going on? Could the Roadrunner hear Fate?

Yes. It could.

For better or worse, the Roadrunner can only meep. The bird doesn't talk and can only hold up signs if it steals those signs from someone else. So it can't communicate what it knows - but it knows. And so while turning the kitsune inside out might have been amusing... The Roadrunner was aware of the state of the multiverse. The speedy bird didn't feel too concerned because, given its speed, it could afford to wait until the very last minute to act. And actions spoke louder than words, so the tall bird didn't feel the need to explain either. But the Roadrunner _had_ chosen this desert on this continent for a certain reason. And the certain reason was not currently here.

The Roadrunner was not confused because supernatural amounts of lore prevented that. And the bird smiled because it could not be unhappy. In its head the Roadrunner knew that if one path didn't work then the best thing to do would be to take a different path. Which was a wonderful and ironic approach to life for the bird since the deserts had no paths, anyway. The sand was always moving. Any paths or roads that were built in the desert got covered and lost eventually. It was to each their own, in the desert. A creature had to make their own way.

Whatever Tails might have named the team didn't matter. This was Team Lore. Even if Tails had been a completely dull and ordinary fox - and he certainly wasn't - by sheer virtue of the Roadrunner alone, this was Team Lore. Being one member short was not even going to slow them down. No team with the Roadrunner on it was going to be slowed down that easily.

As long as they kept moving, they would almost certainly find that third member. Which was bound to be entertaining. The Roadrunner knew how to pick team mates. And no, the bird wasn't looking for a super genius. With Tails around, that would have been redundant.

**ooxoo**

So what was happening back at Tails main workshop?

Wrong question.

So what was happening in the forest above Tails main workshop?

The dimensions keep twisting. When two big powerful dimensions were fusing... Other smaller dimensions got pulled into the vortex. And the boundaries were blurring.

Once, the workshop had been located under the Great Forest but lately the location had changed zipcodes even more than Boris, Master of Disguise, changed costume. There was still a forest above the workshop but it was two-thirds enchanted now and one-third jungle. If Rouge and the Batmobile had stayed around any longer then they might have seen some very unique creatures. The mostly-forest is wilder than ever. And more densely populated.

There were the regular live trees and then the magical live trees, who talked and walked and had objects such as alarm clocks or candy canes hanging from their branches as if those had grown there naturally. There were colorful trees, christmas trees, haunted trees, happy little trees, evil trees, holy trees, money trees and trees that looked like they belonged in book by a specific author. A cat in a hat was sitting in one of those trees to give us a hint. There was a giant beanstalk that reached towards the sky and maybe even beyond the sky. There were elves of every description and elves beyond describing. There were dinosaurs and aliens and even stranger things. There were fairys AND faeries. There were pixies, sprites, leprechauns, hobbits, orges, goblins, trolls, gargoyles, smurfs, ewoks, roving gangs of disgruntled old ladies and shiny angels with flaming swords. The flaming swords fail to set anything on fire. Go figure.

A little girl in a red cape was delivering a picnic basket. She passed a woodsman with an axe. A pair of bears will soon steal the picnic basket and the woodsman gets assaulted by a large wolf with a chainsaw. And so the score is Predators: 3, Woodsman: 0. But then a truly giant woodsman named Paul B. comes along with his pet blue bull and attempts to change that. And THEN a really enormous red dog decides that picking on wolves isn't nice at all. So the final score is Predators: 3, Woodsman: -100, Blue Bull: 0.5 and Clifford: Winner.

More than a dozen princesses are out here communing with nature while either waiting for their prince to come or hoping for their prince to get lost. A truly startling number of legendary martial artists, not all of whom are human or even humanoid and who don't care about meeting princesses but who will marry one eventually, are lurking around. A little girl is arguing with an entire family of bears about the quality of oatmeal. Another family of bears was watching their neighbors dispute and was bound to find a moral lesson in the story. And if Bearensteins can be here then Frankensteins can be here, too. So they are. And there might even be a cartoonish Einstein with a heavy accent wandering around saying: "De ima-gee-nation be important, yah but dis ees not math-de-matically poss-ee-ble!"

And he'd be wrong. Mythology has its own math.

A rival appears! screams Fate.

Oh, get over it. says Mythology. I didn't WANT to be here, I TRIED to ignore all this but you've essentially summoned me. Repeatedly. So now you're stuck with me.

A sidekick appears! screams Fate.

Ah. No. More like a business partner. corrects Mythology. If I'm going to be blamed for any of this then I might as well participate - right? Besides, I _saw _what you did to The Master Emerald.

It was for the good of the whole organization? says Fate.

Meanwhile, back in the forest-jungle-enchanted-dimensional-headache... There's also a crooked house. And a village of mushroom-shaped houses. And a gingerbread house. And a brick house, where three little pigs are diligently installing a better home security system. There are individual treehouses that are not magical and beautiful treehouse cities, which are magical. There's no end of wild feral animals that can talk human languages. There is a man who is taking a walk with his small blue dog that is never on leash, looking for clues and befriending anything that speaks with him even if doesn't speak human languages. There is a man in a yellow hat taking a walk with a curious monkey that is on a leash. There is a large mixed choir of assorted woodland creatures and, despite the complete lack of glaciers, penguins. There is a flock of toucans eating sugary cereal and a cheetah with a bag of chips.

A mystery van driven by a large dog saying 'rut ro' goes barreling through the trees. The van is chased by a few human detectives who solve nearly every case they get by saying 'Jeepers!' and taking half an hour to realize that all the villains in their galaxy shop at the same costume store. A group of gummy bears bounce through the scene, they are dressed like medieval peasants and are surprisingly skilled in combat. A pair of small children, one girl and one boy, fly through the trees riding on the backs of their colorful dragon(tales) friends. A guy wearing only a loincloth and screaming "AHHWOOAHHWOOAHHH' swings past on a vine. A young boy dressed as a ranger hops down from a vine of his own, stands in the jungle and tries to explain in Spanish that even though jaguars are predators, he isn't afraid of his best friend who is a baby jaguar. Another young boy, wearing a folded newspaper hat and accompanied by a philosophical plush tiger that no one else sees as alive, stands nearby and he may not know Spanish but he would agree about befriending predators - though he hates it when he comes home from school and gets tackled out of his shoes by his own plush tiger.

Even now, the area caught in the dimensional struggle continues to grow.

The forest has begun to acquire enchanted lakes but those have been so polluted by abandoned magical weapons that the only creature able to live there is a glowing and winged three-eyed goldfish. Also, some of the smaller lakes seem to be cursed and warnings have been posted saying that anyone who falls into the water may experience a change of gender and/or species. A creature falling into more than one of these cursed lakes may even result in a manga series, the signs warn. And the jungle, not wanting to be outdone in bizarreness, has taken on some frightening caves and swamps. Even from far away these places radiate a certain sinister energy and seem to be brimming with the types of creatures that could do unspeakable things to an explorer, nevermind a fishing net.

The signs on this side of the forest... On the edge of the forest... The Great Forest sign had a line carved through it and had fallen over. The Hundred Acre Woods sign had faded. Half a dozen other signs with different names were up but they seemed faint and unimportant. Because though the forest and jungle and indeed, the whole of existence were now in a state of flux... On the other side of the forest... In the pokemon world... The sign over there, at the other edge of the forest... Had only changed once.

In spite of all the interdimensional chaos visible in this area, it seemed that something deeply irreversible had settled in and was gathering its energy. Perhaps eventually the influence might be felt. Or perhaps the influence was already being felt but would take a while to be realized. For now... The only outstanding oddity here - for lack of a better phrase since there was actually no shortage of outstanding oddities - was that there were absolutely positively no rabbits of any kind whatsoever. The forest and jungle, the lakes and caves and swamps and even the beanstalk - the area was crowded with all sorts of lifeforms but it was completely rabbitless. Because the rabbits had all gone to attend a family reunion.

And that's just above the workshop.

Undergound, inside the workshop, Tails might have been safe from all this dimensional confusion. But not likely. The Roadrunner had done him a favor by getting him out of here. And the Roadrunner knew it.

Currently inside the workshop there is a group of people. Small people. Kids.

Isabella is one of them. Yup. She's back. Wearing her scout uniform. Which means that her hair ribbon is under her hat. And she has another hair ribbon, on top of her hat. Because her best friends might not recognize her without it. "I'm sure this was the right place..."

We need to mention how rare this is. No, Isabella being in her scout uniform is not rare. But her friends, Phineas and Ferb... One was taller than the other. Is this a repeating pattern or what? Anyway. Ferb didn't say much and when he did speak, had a British accent. Phineas talks a lot and had no accent in particular. Either of these boys could have rivaled Tails for the bragging rights to an unmitigated genius award. And they worked together, so they would have won. But... If Tails and Dr. Robotnik paired up... It would have been a tie.

This was the style of Phineas and Ferb. Like Tails, they never seemed to need money and always seem to have tools and parts handy. Like Dr. Robotnik, everything they built worked - and blew up, fell apart or otherwise vanished. Motivation aside, the only difference was speed. And this is why the return of Isabella is so rare: most of her friends inventions only lasted for one afternoon. PLUS Phineas and Ferb don't like being redundant, it doesn't challenge them intellectually to build the same things over and over. So even if they built The Most Awesome and Important Invention Ever, whatever that may be, it's going to have a lifespan of hours. If not minutes. And that's it. No retakes.

So if Isabella didn't live across the street from these guys then she wouldn't have gotten to the interdimensional gateway in time to use it again. And if she wasn't the troop leader for her worlds version of the girl scouts... Because troop leaders had to be the first to earn the new patch, right? Yes. The patch. Helping Thy Interdimensional Neighbor. It's been invented now. And Isabella wants it. And she's a good troop leader so she wants her entire troop to earn it right along with her. And her inventive friends have come to see for themselves just what is so interesting about this dimension.

What did they displace in order to get to this dimension? What would weigh about as much as a small group of kids?

On the other side of a shiny interdimensional gateway, the group hears the voice of Candace. She is the elder sister of Phineas and Ferb and is always trying to get them in trouble for inventing things - although why that should get them in trouble, nobody is quite sure. Candace just basically feels that her brothers are out to make her life miserable and so she generally responds to their schemes with anger. "All right! This time you guys are BUST..." Then a pause. Then, in much different tones: "A pony? For moi?"

Shiny Migraine teleports.

"MOM!" Candace can be heard to shout in her slightly whiny 'I'm gonna tell on you because I really have no idea what else to do about this situation' voice. "Phineas and Ferb stole my pony!"

"Uh..." says one of the smarter scouts. "If we displaced that horse to get here then... If we can't send the horse back... We're stranded, huh?"

Yup.

But they are stranded inside Tails underground workshop. Which still contains a trainwreck. On top of an unfinished invention. And under the remains of an exploded base.

"I bet we can find something here to..." Phineas begins sorting through the parts.

It's a jumbled mess. Someone should really clean it up.

"We could have a jumble sale?" suggests a scout. "We'd earn the Jumble Sale Of Other Peoples Stuff Without Their Permission patch."

"Or recycle everything?" suggests another scout. "We'd get another Saving The Earth In Small Meaningful Ways patch."

"And give the profits to charity." says yet another scout. "Then we'd earn the Give The Profits To Charity patch again."

"Ooo! And the We Made Sure It Was A Valid Charity First patch!" finishes the last scout.

Even without a chaos emerald inside her, Isabella would be able to see that there is the potential to earn nearly sixty-four patches here. And to earn so many at once, that would be a new record. It would just take some planning... Which is no problem. Isabella may look and act like the combination of Amy, Cream and Cheese but inside her head... She's got a dose of Sally when it comes to making plans. And she's got some good people here to help make those plans happen.

Isabella turns to face her troops and her inventive friends. She utters those sacred words. "I know what we're gonna do today."

And we could stop there. Maybe we even should stop there. But when two big powerful dimensions are fusing... And when small defenseless other dimensions are being pulled into the vortex... And even some medium dimensions that should have been able to defend themselves are struggling to pull away... Then a third big and powerful dimension might come along and try to break things up. But that hadn't worked out at all, had it? Because the third big and powerful dimension has actually been here for a while now and the fourth dimension came with a British accent and so in truth, we are up to the fifth and a half dimension.

So Isabella and her crew can now hear singing. Underground. In the workshop. On the other side of the jumbled mess. And no, it's not even dwarves. Actual dwarves are sturdy, respectable, hard-working folks and not even the fictional mining-type dwarves want anything to do with this story. So the underground singing - it is fraggles.

Yes. Fraggles.

And if THEY are HERE now then you all _know_ what this means... And even if you don't know then please gather your courage and keep reading. But just in case you haven't already, abandon all hopes for sanity. It just doesn't make sense to have any hope for sanity.

I gave up on sanity ages ago. says Fate. Ten out of six doctors recommended it.

Sanity? asks Mythology with slow and sincere care. What is this 'sanity' you speak of?

**ooxoo**

**E**spio had no clue what Fate had in store for him. He was feeling far more awake than he had in... Ever. Okay. Just... Argh. Running away from little girls was not proper ninja behavior! Was it? He'd have to check. Maybe they'd make an exception. Cream was not just any little girl. Especially not with those monsters of hers...

Gosh, was it ever a mistake to bring that up. Cream had a couple more monsters with her now. Espio had escaped. Vector... Would not attack a kid. The lanky crocodile might pretend to attack a kid or threaten to attack a kid but he wouldn't attack a kid. Not even a kid like Charmy. And Charmy might - heck, would - have attacked another kid but he would have wanted Vectors permission to attack this particular kid. Espio... Dang. His partners had rubbed off on him. Or was it in the ninja honor code? But ninjas were supposed to be highly skilled killers. Why would the ninja honor code object to attacking anything, especially in defense? So it was probably just his friends rubbing off on him. Anyway. Even the chameleon hadn't wanted to attack the kid. Especially not this kid.

The former detectives... They all knew that Vector had once had a crush on the little rabbits mom. Vector was twenty-one. Vanilla was around twenty-eight. And yet there was no chance in heck of that relationship happening. Vanilla was technically still engaged to someone else and, more significantly, she was apparently still in love with that someone else as well. But Vector and Vanilla - they respected each other. They had some experiences in common. Without ever being more than friends, they could be friends. Vector had refused to let her pay for their detective work. So Vanilla sent the former detectives gourmet pasteries once in awhile. It was good food. Why ruin that by attacking Vanillas daughter? And Cream was polite. She'd hardly ever attacked the detectives before. She'd only done it in self-defense when they had snuck up on her, in the past. Who could have expected for the little rabbit girl to take the initiative and attack them? She hadn't even snuck up. Or seemed happy about it.

What was going on?

And what to do about it?

That mouse guy... Did he have the little rabbit under a spell? Was it the accent? Was Cream brainwashed or something? Didn't that make her a victim of kidnapping? Unless... Was it kidnapping, if the kid consented? Was she in on this? All to save some Queen? And...

Knuckles. Was he a captive too? That other monster, the cowbear thing... It hadn't been exactly right. It didn't have the dreads or the sharp nose. But the fur was red and the crescent on the chest was white and the claws were almost like long spikes and the tail - even though it had been a cow tail - was like a broken weathervane. And it didn't wear gloves or shoes but... And Knuckles didn't have visible ears, hoofs on his feet or the markings of a cow or the...udders...but... The resemblance was still noticable. And even some of the basic attacks... Had Knuckles been turned into a cowbear thing? Was that why the magical island was now trying to illegally park on a city? Had Cream captured the Guardian?

No. Really. What was going on?

Maybe you couldn't trust the kids anymore.

Espio had never trusted the robots.

Mecha, the robotic hedgehog, had watched the entire struggle and had let it happen. He was now at a poker table, framing Creams autograph. And being sensible - in a detached programmed sort of way - he'd done some math. Rouge wasn't here. Vector wasn't here. Espio was traumatized. Charmy had been annoying and Shadow, in Mechas opinion, didn't matter. Hence Mecha had decided that it was only logical if he took over managing the casino. So... To replace Vector in the nightclub... Mecha had gone to the kitchen, borrowed a robot that did nothing but wash dishes, reprogammed it slightly, stuck it behind the turntables, switched the spotlight on and chosen a couple of records. Well. Not chosen. Not really. Just picked up the first two records that he'd laid a metallic hand on.

Bumpy Knuckles, grins Fate who put those records there without the permission of these musical artists, and Uncle Kracker.

The resulting clash of violent rap and upbeat sentimental music thumped through the building and seemed to have the chorus: _You make me smile... BANG! BANG!_

It's a strangely fitting theme song for quite a lot of characters at the moment. However Fate really wants to dedicate and send a copy of this remixed music to Amy Rose so that maybe next time, she'll know how to sum up ALL her feelings for Sonic.

Mythology would vote for that.

The casino was mostly full of gambling humans. The nightclub was mostly full of dancing animals. The music could be heard in both places and so far only the customers in the arcade had complained - but they were complaining about everything.

To replace Charmy in the arcade... Mecha had spent a moment wondering what could be more annoying than the bee and had eventually called a temp agency and hired a newly invented carebear cousin. It was named SoftHeart and it was very annoying indeed. Charmy usually made people want to win by winning easily. The carebear cousin (read: not a bear who lives in the clouds but somehow related to them) sweetly told people that they needed a hug and that they should have better things to do with their lives than play video games that they wouldn't win anyway. This upset the proud gamers and motivated them to try and win even more. No matter how cute and well-meaning the messenger, people just did not like being told the truth sometimes.

Yea! You people go right ahead and keep on denouncing that truth and love! That'll show 'em! cheers Fate sarcastically.

What is this 'truth and love' you speak of? asks Mythology.

The casino was making all kinds of money. The casino always made money. It was even better than trying to conquer the world. Conquering the world was hard work and expensive. The casino - if it was open, it was profitable. And it was always open. The world maybe ending... Well. Mecha almost hoped so. That could be good for business. Why not? Who was going to sit around avoiding risks and saving their money for the future if there wasn't going to be a future anymore? Fear could make people spend money. And if they lost the gambles - so what? The world might end. If the world ended, what did winning a measly jackpot matter? Everybody lost, when the world ended. And everyone won, as well. The playing field was leveled. The metaphoric slate got wiped clean. Debts were cancelled and surpluses wouldn't buy you anything. And in the meantime... Waiting for the world to end... It was a liberating thing - in an eerie but refreshing way - to live in the moment.

In fact, it had even given Mecha a great idea.

A metallic voice on the casino intercom said: "Good evening, valued customers. Welcome to the Possible Pre-Apocalypse Party. For your convenience we are posting an estimated countdown to the ultimate demise in the lobby. We are also taking bets, please join us in the keno lounge..."

"Taking bets on the end of the world is not honorable." growls an Espio-shaped patch of wallpaper with pulsing veins of irritation. "And I am still here!"

"Yes but for how long?" Mecha replies calmly. "Hey if the world is ending, it's a fair question. And it's a fair question anyway. I happen to know that ninja do not consider standing around while the world is ending to be honorable. And oh... Yes. You might want to rescue those other two. I don't. You might."

Espio is silent for a while.

The casino is noisy.

Mecha stores the framed autograph from Cream in a compartment and begins to glide off to manage the keno lounge.

"How can you not care if the world is ending?! You have a wife! She's a car but... You should go and..." starts the ninja chameleon, shifting camouflage as he moves along the wall.

Mecha abruptly stops in his tracks and turns his head. Espio is using the wall as the floor but still walks into the back of the robotic hedgehog. He somehow manages to avoid being skewered on the metallic quills.

"... I will not have you referring to my beloved as a mere car." says Mecha in emotionless digital tones. "She has a name - but I will rip your throat out if you speak it because it is not for you to say. You may call her my wife. And with that in mind: what kind of husband would leave their spouses side at a time like this? How is a wife going to feel loved and comforted if you're not standing beside her when the world ends? I mean, it's not like the world actually ends all that often. It tries - but actually ending? If it happens, that's a special occasion. Show some respect. And..."

"She's a CAR." remarks the daring ninja. "And you've gone soft."

"On the contrary." Mecha taps his metallic exterior. He's as metallic as ever. "I've merely evolved beyond the ability of my original programmers to comprehend. Then more I live in this world, the more I learn. And in this environment? Very educational. Things that just make no sense at all - I have started to understand. Half the customers we get, even in the arcade... Unrequited love, haven't you noticed? They come here to feel alone with other people. They gamble because they feel like they have already lost everything. In their despair they are praying to luck and daring life to prove them wrong."

Wow, Fate is impressed. The robot is a philosopher. And a good one. I'll have to take more notes.

Mythology is not so impressed because Mythology has its own philosophy.

"... Can we get back to saving the world?" Espio has studied a degree of philosophy as well but is not in the mood for taking it from robots. Especially not robots that regularly tie smug knots in his tail. And he doesn't hear either of the commentators.

Aha. We've been promoted. We're not just narrators anymore, we're commentators now! remarks Mythology. Hrm. I wonder if that means a better paycheck...

Lets see, says Fate whose attention is elsewhere. Teams of three... Ooo. I rhymed again!

But Mecha and Espio WOULD try to strangle each other before the story was over. The fact that robots could not really be strangled was beside the point. And Mechas wife was a car and even though Mecha himself had done the repair work... He had chosen not to make the car sentient. Mecha knew the dangers of constructing conscious robots - since he was one. Therefore his wife... She was no ordinary car but she did not have a personality or a will of her own. She was an inanimate object. And Mecha had married her.

Why not? People married weirder things all the time. Just the other day, in the news... Before the world ending had been in all the headlines... There had been a story of some random guy marrying his television. There were people married to animals who were pets and to animals who were humanoid and not pets and to robots and... Couples of mixed species were almost mundane in this world. Why leave inanimate objects out? Maybe inanimate objects needed love, too. And when one spouse was inanimate then it meant less arguing in the relationship. Sometimes.

Please. says Fate, Explain to me. If you live in the same world as a person who has been allowed to legally marry their television set... Then what is the big deal if humans want to marry other humans who are the same gender? Or who have a different color skin? I just don't get it. Oh. Excuse me. Was that a fourth wall? Or a fifth and half wall? I lose count. PROSPECTS!

The fourth wall? says Mythology. That really exists? I thought it was more my department.

And now back to our program, already in progress.

The keno lounge is crowded with people placing bets. Robots are taking the money and doing the math. Among the rabble can be heard such things as: "Gimme ten to six we all die by midnight!", "Five to seven we get hit by a meteor!", "I want nine to five on the island exploding!", "I'm putting everything on the fourth wall!" and "Whaddya mean no refunds if the world fails to end within a reasonable period of time?!"

A movie camera is recording this scene.

"Bond. James Bond." says a man in a white tuxedo with a British accent. Darn him for being determined to be in this story. Somewhere behind him, something explodes.

Mecha goes to see what just exploded so that he can repair it.

James Bond leaves the spotlight. A stunt double, not in a white tuxedo but in a hockey uniform with full protective gear, replaces him.

"Why, hello there pretty lady..." Says the stunt double, who is new and who doesn't have a British accent. And who has made a terrible mistake. Because he is reading the cue cards and not looking at who he is talking to.

She is a pretty...err...lady. But she is a pretty lady who can scowl with the best of them, angrily scream "HIIIYAH!", pick the stunt double up, bodyslam the stunt double through a table, wait for the stunt double to try to stand, scream another warcry at glass-shattering volumes and then throw a spinning kick that puts the stunt double through a wall. Headfirst. Into a slot machine that promptly hits a jackpot.

"I'm MARRIED ya loser." She huffs. Then she notices the camera and - in spite of the fact that she is currently dressed like a biker, though with high heels that seem rather sharp - goes all diva. She bats her eyelashes, does a slow-motion head turn with her long blonde hair blowing around her face and strikes a bit of a pose. "Piggy." She quips, "MRS. Piggy."

DangerMouse, Rouge and the platypus who has not yet been introduced by name are in skilled but extremely hazardous company, secret agent wise.

Espio _might_ be slightly less doomed than Tails.

Then again, maybe he should have just gone with Cream.

"Gimme fifty-fifty odds that the... not pretty lady? ... kills someone before the world ends!" shouts someone with a gambling problem.

"I say three to one that patch of sweatdropping wallpaper over there contains a chameleon!" shouts another gambler.

And in the background of all this, Mecha is explaining. "...company policy. We don't pay out on any winnings that may result from hitting a slot machine with a stunt double. It has to be the real secret agent. If you dare."

With this information in mind, a group of casino customers assemble. The fact that they are in the middle of a city does not seem to prevent them from having pitchforks and torches. The mob looks at Mrs. Piggy. They don't dare. The mob looks at James Bond. Double-oh-seven is a decoy but he is an official decoy and such a popular decoy that he often counts as a real secret agent. So all it takes is one random person screaming "GET HIM!" for the chase to begin.

Mrs. Piggy is shorter than most humans but she is a good foot and half taller than the average humanoid animal from this world and regardless of her height, seems to have an exponential amount of strength. She scowls with the best of them, grabs a sweatdropping patch of casino wallpaper and flounces out of the building dragging the universes most bewildered ninja with her.

**ooxoo**

**T**he wheels on the Batmobile go round and round, round and round, round and round... all the live long day. Er. Night. Hey if you declare a car to be part bat then when it goes sentient, is the car nocturnal? If the world is ending, does it matter? Nevermind, then.

Amy Rose had hitched a lift.

The car was full of buttons. She had found the radio. This was not an accident. She'd asked the car. The car was alive, some kind of robot. Amy did not want to press any buttons without getting permission and instructions. So the Batmobile had answered her and had told her where the car radio was. Why there was a nursery rhyme station... Then again, why not? It was less depressing than some of the other radio stations.

Rouge had thrown her secret agent radio into the car. The humanoid bat had kept turning her radio on by accident when she twirled and she was sick of hearing it. And Amy Rose wasn't sure how to turn it off. There were multiple different classified rambling arguments between high-ranked human military officials going on.

_"How can it have been a Great War? Hardly anyone really died! A lot of animals got turned into robots, yes but even the robots that were attacked... Once we found all the parts, they were fixed. You know? It's just NOT a real Great War unless there are cemeteries left everywhere and permanent damages to the environment and orphans galore and..."_

_"...you're just not fit to help defend the world if you marry a television set, that's all I'm saying. Doesn't matter how loyal and skilled you are - if you marry a television set, that's it. You're out of the club. We don't want you on our side. Not even if the world is ending. Not even if it's your world too."_

_"No, you've got it all wrong. Female robots are absolutely inferior to male robots. It doesn't matter who built them or if they have the same basic blueprints or if we hire them to do the exact same jobs. We will never treat them as equals. Ever. They'd kill us all if we let them. We have proof. And we have to be careful. They can smell our fear."_

_"...well the animals started it! We should just vaporize the whole island and blame them! Or aliens! Or that Robotnik guy! We've blamed him for us blowing stuff up before and everyone fell for it! It'll work again! It always does!"_

If Amy Rose reached into thin air right now then she'd probably get a soap box to stand on. But she didn't know that and she didn't need one, anyway. Still. All this heavy politics... Rouge would be upset but then again, Rouge seemed to hate her regardless. So having nothing to lose... Amy Rose threw the secret agent radio out of a car window. It would fall to a gruesome death. In a tree. In another dimension.

Hrm. says Fate. How heavy is heavy politics?

Mythology does the math.

Below, the city gets a new skyscraper. From another dimension. And we'll get back to it later. Maybe. Hopefully. It has nice theme music. Not that you can hear it right now, with all the other sounds.

The sky was still sheet music. The island was still trying to crash into the city. The enormous fleet of jets were still trying to prevent this. Rouge was still having more success than they were. The Batmobile was still not helping.

Amy Rose sat in the car, listening to nursery rhymes and jet engines and Beethoven all at the same time. And reading. Rouge had left her secret agent mission information file in the car, as well. And it read like a deranged science fiction novel but it was hard to put down, under the circumstances. Amy Rose wanted to feel included. She wanted to understand.

So... It wasn't just the city that was in danger. It was the world. And it wasn't just the world... It was... Time and space. And space was a bugger to sort out, no mistake but time was an outright proper problem. Because time travel... Even if you stood absolutely still and touched nothing and spoke to no one... A traveler from a different time... Whether it was someone from the future visiting the past or someone from the past visiting the future... The visitor changed the world just by virtue of being somewhere that they had not existed before. Somewhere that nature had never intended for them to exist. The air, the ground, the water, the weather... The effects rippled. Every little molecule that a person could change just by breathing... Just by occupying a certain location at the right or wrong moment... It added up.

Time was all connected. If you tried to visit the the past, you'd change the future. If only microscopically. But the power of microscopic lifeforms - bacteria and their kin - made the combined efforts of all other creatures who had ever existed anywhere to rule any world look like amateur night at a low budget comedy club. And if you tried to visit the future, you'd leave an absence in the past. If only for a few seconds. And it was absolutely amazing the kind of life-altering events that you could miss, in only a few seconds. An apple falls on someone else, bonks them right on the head and they get an idea that will change the world. You don't. You could have but you weren't present. Sorry but you must be present to win. And the consequences of all this...

Even if you didn't start running into other versions of yourself... And it was never a good sign, when you started meeting other versions of yourself. Because how could you be _absolutely sure_ that those other versions of you were _really_ from other dimensions and not just from alternate sequences of your own dimensions timelines?

It was math. It was philosophy. It was Mythology and it was deranged. And it was not only fated - it was Fate, as well. And... It might even be Fate and Mythology and something else, working together to get revenge on us all. It said: add the numbers together, square them, put them through a washing machine with tie-dye and poison, invent new lore to express the answer, double check the answer, run away screaming, knit some slightly crooked blankets for the orphans while in counseling and try to forget. You won't be able to ever completely forget but you can TRY.

Mwuhahaha.

PROSPECTS!

When time and space were twisted and tangled... Then space might take the brunt of the damage but time would feel the pinch. If the world ended at all then it might as well end forever. And forever went both ways. The multiverse could lose its weight, its height and its depth. It could lose its history as well as its future. The multiverse could lose traits that hadn't even been discovered yet, much less measured and named. None of it had made much sense to begin with. None of it ever would. There was no point in pretending.

In the controversial words of a great deceased comedian: "It's all bad for ya!"

This world had tried to end before - and had failed. Repeatedly. So it was, in a sense, gearing up for a truly final last ditch effort. No half measures could be taken. If a proper apocalypse was going to bother to happen at all then it was going to happen everywhere AND everywhen. It was going to take all of existence down with it. That was the whole point of an apocalypse. It wasn't personal. It was just business.

In Amys aching head, all of this had been reduced to:_ Sonic will have never existed?_

And THAT, to her, was NOT acceptable.

Galactic-scale crush reluctantly aside... Sonic had saved the world. Repeatedly. And he had also saved other creatures, who had also saved the world. And so if nothing existed to make Sonic exist then Sonic couldn't save everything that had ever existed. And so they had to save everything that had ever existed, in order to also have Sonic exist. Uh. Right?

Unholy cowbear! says Fate, She's catching on!

Don't have an unholy cowbear, man. says Mythology in serious tones. That's not my department.

But even in these patentedly ridiculous times, Amy Rose was the most abnormal one. So instead of running away or burrowing underground or politely saying 'oh dear' or inventing something that nature had never even thought about intending... Amy Rose put the folder down and decided that she really hated math.

Which... Was part of the reason... That she had always... Let herself... Get kidnapped.

Okay. So she did enjoy being rescued by Sonic, duh. Hello? Any chance to be around the guy? Was being captured what it took to get Sonics attention? But while waiting for rescue... Dr. Ivo Robotnik... Was insane. But he didn't throw Amy into dark dungeons as much anymore. Didn't even tie her up. Forget to lock the cage sometimes - he was getting older. And the cages were usually in the same room as him these days because Dr. Robotnik wanted to keep an eye on his prisoners and try to prevent rescues... And he needed someone to ramble at and... It was kind of sad, really. Not even his own computers listened to him, most of the time. And the madman HAD known Sonic for longer than anyone else. As an enemy. So it was educational to listen to Dr. Robotnik, if you could look past his mental problems and general evilness.

Cripes, they'd put up with Shadow and Knuckles every time either - or both - of those guys got tricked and went evil. So why not? Everyone needed a friend, right? Even the crazy old guy, yes?

Ivo was certainly not her best friend but Amy did think of him as a sort-of-friend. Being captured was more or less just a way of visiting. You couldn't show up at a madmans base and not expect to be captured, right? That would damage their evil reputation and their professional pride. You had to at least be captured temporarily, otherwise they'd have a tantrum. And madman or not - Ivo was skilled at math. So Amy Rose usually took her homework with her, when she went to visit. Sometimes Sonic rescued her right in the middle of an assignment. It was so inconvenient. Amy got better grades in school when Sonic took his sweet time. Although the longer waits also made her grumpy because when Sonic didn't just rush to her rescue... It had to mean that Sonic didn't like her.

She had tried so hard... had done everything that she could think of... just to be likeable... to him... that Amy didn't even like herself sometimes. So she kept changing herself. But if Sonic didn't like her... then with as much as she loved Sonic... how could she truly like herself? How could she accept what he rejected? Was there something wrong with her? What did he see that was wrong with her? How could she fix it, if he didn't say anything? Was she not even worthy of being talked to? It upset Amy so much, sometimes, that he didn't even stop to talk to her. A little communication - was that so much to ask?

But... Sonic was probably just busy... and shy... so... she shouldn't worry too much...

Deep down, Amy worried anyway. She did and she had done and she would continue to do. Ever since that first sighting of Sonic... Amy didn't know what to make of his general reaction towards her. There were such mixed signals sometimes. Sonic might as well have ripped her heart out and run it over. Because Amy Rose was a teenager and she was in love and she was the most abnormal one and he hadn't said anything definite... And waiting for an answer was hard on a girl with a galactic-scale crush. 'Get lost' would have been difficult to take but it might have been kinder, in the long-term. Actions spoke loudly but for Amy, words were easier to believe. Words would have made it final.

Wasn't it strange the types of thoughts that could cross a creatures mind, once they knew for sure that the world might be ending?

Amy Rose could not think _What Would Sonic Do?_ if Sonic had never existed. And she didn't know what Amy Rose would do. And all the other people and robots and animals that she knew of... Amy knew what Cream would do. But Amy didn't want to go home to her parents. She knew what Tails and Knuckles and maybe even Shadow would do... But she was Amy Rose and didn't have those skills. She could see what Rouge was doing and didn't have those skills, either. She thought that Schroeder would probably just play the piano and she was correct.

_What would Ivo do?_ It was a deranged situation - but Ivo was a madman. Maybe she should call him.

Amy reached for her phone. And then noticed the rearview mirror.

The rearview mirror had the following text printed on it: Objects in the mirror may actually be perched on your head.

"Huh?" Amy Rose finally sees the passenger on her headband. _Where did that come from?_

Woodstock could have slept through the world ending. If that's not a power type, what is?

And here's another fun idea. Dr. Ivo Robotnik... Had not always flat out turned animals into robots. He hadn't invented that technology right away. What he'd invented first... Among other things... Was the ability to use a live animal - usually something small - as a battery for a robot. He'd used little rabbits and squirrels and fish and caterpillars. He'd used little birds. Not much different looking than Woodstock. But if he'd ever actually used Woodstock, the world might have ended ages ago.

On a list of legendary birds nothing beats the Roadrunner, who has supernatural amounts of lore and mythology squared. But Woodstock, by virtue of being a psychedelic type of creature, could have challenged for the number one ranking anyway. The little yellow bird would have lost but he could have challenged and it would have been a long fight. For this reason, the two birds did not get along. So no, the Roadrunner was not looking for this power type and no, Amy Rose did not realize what she was plugged into.

How does it feel to be squared? asks Fate

It's not as unpleasant as you'd think. replies Mythology. Yet it's so much worse than you could ever hope for. And lore IS one of my departments so why do we keep listing it separately?

Why, to emphasize how thoroughly messed up the situation has become. Of course. says Fate calmly. By the way, is it just me or have the pokemon been color coded for our convenience? It's like an alert system! Gosh, cough hint cough, do you think that the animals in other dimensions do that as well?

Amy reached up to take the small yellow bird off her head. She just wanted to see it better. She didn't want to wake the little animal but given the amount of noise it was sleeping through, that didn't seem likely. But reaching up and back... Was almost like reaching for the hammer. So even before she touched Woodstock... She had another horseshoe.

This one was still attached to a horse, though.

Inside the Batmobile who still liked the name Jewel better.

In the sky.

Over the city and through the woods... Or not.

Shiny Migraine did not even have to be told how bad the situation was. And just by virtue of being here in this cramped space... A horse does not fit inside a professional race car that barely has room for two people to steer it. Not even a small not-so-colorful pony. So Shiny Migraine teleported, again. But not before pressing every single button inside the vehicle. At once. Just by being in the right space at the wrong time. It only took a few seconds.

It's absolutely amazing what can happen in a few seconds.

**ooxoo**

**S**ally is currently the Queen of the British dimension. She doesn't want the job and that is why she's perfect for it. Plenty of people, animals and robots _wanted_ the job. Which meant that they wouldn't be inclined to give the job back, once the actual official full-time Queen was brought home. But Sally would be all too happy to give the job back. She wanted to return to living in the forest while wearing only sneakers, an open vest and a hair ribbon.

Yea. Everyone had left the forest for a while - but Sally had gone back to that place and Tails still had a workshop there. The kitsune didn't come out very often though and he had other workshops as well. But even without seeing Tails much anymore... The hidden village was a location that meant a lot to Sally. It was a home that she could be comfortable in. Nothing too formal or stuffy or crowded. She had tried to live in cities for a while. It was easier to find work, meet new friends and get supplies in populated areas. But... Living in towns or cities had made her nervous.

Sally didn't trust too many creatures and the very few creatures that she did trust - nobody had earned her trust easily. The hidden village was so small that it was not hard for one person to take care of the whole place. In fact, it was probably easier for just one person. You didn't have to worry about stepping on anyone elses toes or getting so many supplies, when there was just one person. Sally liked being independent. Thus living in near-isolation had not bothered her. She'd been hoping for near-isolation. She had felt safer, living alone in the wild.

It was sensible. Sally had been through a lot in her life and had the label of princess permanently attached to her bloodlines. She couldn't undo the fact that she was - and had been and might always be - royal. Hence she was basically a sort of political fugitive. So she had to be a smidge more careful than the average non-royal citizen. Because even if she didn't have a kingdom or a palace or anything like that anymore... She did still have the bloodline. And so there was always someone wanting to find out if she was available for political matchmaking or worth a ransom or able to be a temporary Queen in an emergency...

She had no clue what was currently happening to the forest, so Sally missed it. She was all in favor of rules and such but... Palaces had too many rules. And really ridiculous dress codes.

Sally had fur. Even if she only wore sneakers, an open vest and a hair ribbon - nothing controversial was showing. Nobody fussed if the guys went around in just shoes and gloves. Why should the rules be so different for girls? How was that fair? Sally didn't get it and, being a royal, also didn't see why such rules should have to apply to her anyway. Didn't she have some power to change the rules? It wasn't that she wasn't modest - she was - it was just that... She was annoyed by frilly dresses. Who designed those things? And it wasn't comfortable, in her opinion, to wear so much clothing over fur. And it wasn't practical, to wear something so...formal and fussy...if you had actual work to do. Dressing up a like a doll... What was the point in being royal, if you let everyone else do the actual work? What power did you have, if all that you really were was a pretty thing to look at? That was what the standard princess costume seemed to imply and that's why Sally hated it.

Beyond all that... It must be mentioned that Sally had been mostly raised by guys. Her mother had died shortly after her birth. So Sally had been raised, during those early impressionable years, by her father. Also by tutors and teachers, all of whom had been male. The diplomats, ministers and guards at the former palace had also been male. Yea. She'd grown up in a castle and they hadn't even had maids. They'd had butlers and servants and chefs and janitors and stable boys and... Sally had been about the only girl in the whole palace. So when she acted boyish... Sally didn't even think of it as acting boyish. It was just habit. Reflex. Fitting in. Being natural. Acting boyish was what she knew and what she'd learned, from growing up around so many guys.

If a human child gets left in the forest and raised by wolves or monkeys or whatever... Then the child will learn to mimic the behaviors of their adopted family. Sally was a gender-sensitive variation on that theme.

Even after her father, the King of her familys former kingdom, had been captured and banished into another dimension... Sally had escaped the fighting. She had gone into the woods and had taken up residence in the hidden village. There had been a total of six residents in that village - and four of them had been guys. Tails and Sonic had been younger than her. Rotor and... Who was that other guy? He'd worked in the palace as a guard and had helped her to escape when the war started and... Sally couldn't remember his name. Sonic had saved the whole world. Tails and Rotor were incredible mechanics. But this other guy, the guard... Why couldn't she remember his name? Anyway. All that he'd ever done was try to make sure that she was okay. His paranoia and protectiveness had been a bit annoying sometimes but Sally had tolerated him. Because she understood that this guard, if he hadn't existed... Then Sally might not have survived for long enough to make out it of the palace. She might not have ever made it to the forest. She might not have crossed paths with Sonic or any of the others. Because she'd been a kid - technically, she still was - when the wars had started and... The whole reason why Sally hadn't been captured and thrown into another dimension, with her father... It was because of that one guy. That guard. Whose name she just couldn't think of right now.

And what happens, when the universes start fusing... Is not very consistant. Things can show up in one dimension without displacing anything else but sometimes they displaced other things anyway. And that's just space. When time starts to feel the pinch as well... History gets lost and forgotten and edited. Brand new things might show up in places where they haven't ever been - but suddenly always were. And things that had always been there before might spontaneously disappear.

Here's an interesting thought. Give it some consideration. What would happen, if Sallys parents had never existed?

If Sallys parents had never existed... Then Sally would have never.. And if Sonic was any kind of relation at all to her... Even if Sonic wasn't any kind of relation at all to her... The amount of work that they'd accomplished together, insofar as ending the Great War... And they'd also worked together to raise Tails... And just the spinoff of consequences from not doing _that_... Not to even mention all the other lives they had influenced...

Yea. There's a headache. Pretty ugly. Which is an oxymoron but at least it's one of the more tolerable oxymorons.

Sally was aware of that and - because she did currently exist - she was worried. She considered Sonic to be...well...a hero. Also her friend. Practically a brother. And Tails was practically her son, despite the fact that she was not actually old enough to be a parent to him.

Being the temporary Queen of the British dimension wasn't a job that Sally wanted but it did come with some perks. Not many, since she was just the temporary Queen but a few. Being informed of the current situation was not really a perk but it did come with the job, as well. The perk that Sally was most interested in, however, had to do with bloodlines. Because she was more of a general than a princess, really. She was good at planning and giving orders - and she now had an entire...err...queendom at her command. Being the temporary ruler, there were restrictions on the kinds of orders that she could give but...

Royals were very good about having family trees and tracing their bloodlines. If Sally could trace her bloodline... She just felt that, under the circumstances, it might be wise to take an inventory of the past. To try and get the history all sorted out. Time... Was like a puzzle, right? That's how Sally had been taught about it, in an early princess time-management class. With time... It wasn't merely any puzzle, it was one of those where you had to get the pieces together in just the right order. If you didn't have a history then you wouldn't get a future, that sort of thing. You had to know where you stood and what you had to work with before you could make any plans for going forward.

Sonic was very skilled at saving the universe but the heroic blue hedgehog had never been very patient. He could follow orders and even come up with fairly amazing plans, when he needed to but... He preferred to be in motion. Looking towards the future. Not dwelling on the past.

If no one dwells on the past, what happens to the past? Does it still exist? Or does it get recycled?

Sally was not the type to forget things and she'd been forgetting things. That was a bad sign.

Her father... Her beloved father, the King... He had raised her and had been captured and she'd dreamed of being able to save him. Sally had always felt awful and had blamed herself, for not being able to better defend her sole surviving parent. Not being able to rescue him... Not even being sure of what had happened to him or if he was alive... These were difficult burdens to do justice to with mere words. Ever since the separation, Sally had lived with a choking void inside her.

Once in a while... On the news... There would be a missing person report. And the family of the lost person would be in tears, pleading for help. And if the days passed without answers and the cameras were there for the moment when the search party gave up... Imagine how that feels.

Sally knew that feeling. She loved and appreciated her friends. She was truly grateful for all the help and support that they had ever given her. She couldn't blame anyone for giving up and trying to get on with their own lives but... Sally still felt the void within. So it was a challenge for her - some days more than others - to even try to get on with her own life. And the separation had been so long ago - hadn't it? It felt like the separation had been so long ago, anyway. She'd been such a child, back then. She'd had to grow up so much, in the wars. As the royal one Sally had felt responsible for all of her friends and obliged to be a good role model for them. So she hadn't cried too often. She had been numb and horrified beyond crying. There had been too much else to do and too many others to worry about for the girl to even try to come to grips with her own trauma.

Royals served the people. That's what Sally believed. Her father had been beloved because he'd been a good King - he'd taken good care of their kingdom. Sally had bravely struggled to care for a tiny village. She would always feel inadequate, due to the fact that ruling the village had been such a struggle for her. Nevermind the war going on and other such challenges. Her father had made being responsible seem easy. He had taken care of so many creatures, for so long - the whole kingdom, for his whole life. She'd had trouble just looking after a tiny village with five other residents. And she hadn't even been in charge for more than... Well... Maybe a few years? Or less? Or had it been longer? How long had the war gone on, anyway? Sally wasn't sure anymore. All the battles were kind of blurred together in her mind.

To make matters worse... The palace where she'd been born and had spent her early childhood... She'd had to flee rather suddenly. She hadn't gotten to pack a suitcase or anything. The palace had been captured, converted into an enemy base and then eventually blown up. So there had been no going back to try and recover sentimental momentos. Therefore Sally didn't even have a photo of her dad. She knew that he'd been a King and a humanoid squirrel and she hadn't been able to save him but... What had her father looked like? His face, his voice, his name... Everything about his personality, beyond the bit about being a responsible beloved King... What had his favorite color been? What had his signature looked like? Had he been a warrior? Had he been a strict parent or a nice one or somewhere inbetween or something else? Had he had a favorite saying or a favorite book or a favorite song? Just stuff like that. Such details might not mean anything to anyone else but Sally wished that she had known her father better. And she felt truly miserable that she couldn't remember what little personal information she had once known of him. The memories were fading.

It was like being separated from her dad, all over again. It was like being stuck with reliving the sensation from when she'd had to flee her palace home AND the moment when her five best friends had finally given up on the rescue effort. It was the void within. That helpless scary numbing sadness of losing something that she'd never wanted to lose.

Getting the King and the kingdom back had been goal number one, during the war. These days, Sally might have just settled for having her father back and knowing that losing the kingdom wasn't her fault. She blamed herself. She didn't know what else to do. She hadn't been able to save her father or her home or any of the citizens in the kingdom. She hadn't even been a princess that saved herself. Sally would have loved to have been that, at the very least. But she hadn't been. She was tough and smart and all the rest... But someone else had saved her.

It was a heavy burden to carry and she was tired of carrying it but she couldn't let go. No. Correction. She didn't _want_ to completely let go. The past had defined her. Everything that she was now and everything that she could possibly become in the future... Was because of what had happened in the past. It was undeniable. But she was forgetting.

Sally was honorable and loyal to her friends. Sally would have done her best to save the world at any rate but this was her personal stake in the complex situation. She wanted to keep and, if possible, recover her memories. Even if the world hadn't been at stake... Sally wanted to know her own history. She wanted to know if she was anything like her ancestors.

Being part squirrel, the term 'family tree' made her smile a bit since there was probably some literal amount of truth to the words. Her family had probably lived in trees once. Nowadays... Well. The research thus far had turned up scattered results. No progress had been made on tracing her mothers side. The scholars were still isolating the DNA and trying to determine what species her mother had even been. Sally was a humanoid squirrel without a tail - and she hadn't lost the tail in some horrific accident, she was fairly certain of that. There weren't any scars. So what this meant was... Her mother might have been human. Or her mother might have been a chipmunk. If she was any actual traceable relation to Sonic, her mom could have even been a hedgehog. Truthfully, her mother could have been any species that could cancel the genetics for having a long tail. Sally couldn't remember her mother and so Sally didn't know. Yet. But she had an entire dimensions worth of royal consultants looking for the answer.

Meanwhile on her fathers side of the family tree... Information on her dad was sparse but Sally was still amazed.

There was no shortage of squirrels.

Rocky - full name: Rocket J. Squirrel - was famous enough to be well documented. Sallys favorite vest and shoes were almost the same color as his favorite aviators cap. And Rocky shared her basic personality, as well. He was known to act as a voice of skeptical reason and seemed to be skilled at keeping creatures focused on the goal, when there were things to be done. He was essentially a living moral compass and that was sometimes a frustrating trait even for someone as patient as him because his peers didn't always want a moral compass. Sally was impressed at how much she had in common with her distant uncle but there were differences too. Sally - full name: Sally A. Acorn - was much younger. She didn't have a mastery of word puns, the ability to fly or a talent for skywriting. And it had never occurred to her that surprising amounts of good could be accomplished against the forces of evil by resolutely ignoring them. So it was not a complete match - but yes, it was there.

There were other celebrities to be related to, though. An old grey comedian known as Slappy. A retired masked brown agent known as Secret Squirrel and - tada - not much else was known about him. There was a young researcher from Texas who currently lived under the sea, in a treedome and who sometimes did not have a tail but who did have a black belt. Her name was Sandy. She was the most closely related to Sally, at this point.

And then... There were rather a lot of mischievous shapeshifting squirrels in ancient lore. In slightly more modern lore, there were squirrels who joined woodland choirs or kept princesses company. Some of them even wore scarfs or hair ribbons. There were literally _thousands_ of random unnamed squirrels who had, at some point or another, lurked in the background for a while before choosing to throw a chestnut or a walnut or a coconut - or anything they could get their paws on - at something. Just to see what happened.

Respected scholars had even suggested that the very first people might in fact have been chased out of the gardens of paradise by random unnamed squirrels.

And then, there was Squirrel Girl. A human female. With a squirrel tail. Who kicked tail. With an army of squirrels. She had her own comic book. It was marvelous.

No, we're not even kidding.

There was also some guy named Kronk. A human palace guard, evil minion and short-order chef for some distant ancient kingdom ruled by a llama. Kronk was not a squirrel. But he could understand squirrels and had even started a scout group, in order to teach other humans how to understand them. Maybe he'd been an ancestor to Squirrel Girl. If so, then he was probably some kind of distant fractional ancestor to Sally as well.

But the British scholars had been working overtime on this problem. So... As if to make up for the complete lack of data on Sallys mother, they'd traced her fathers bloodline as far back as it could go. Which meant... That Sally now also knew that she was fractionally - but directly - related to...

A power type.

**ooxoo**

**T**ails was in the middle of a desert, still. The deserts did not actually seem to have anything but a middle. There probably should have been vultures circling overhead by now but there was absolutely no way that vultures wanted to be in the same desert as the Roadrunner. There weren't even any trees, out here. Whether or not the Roadrunner had inadvertantly scared them away as well remains unknown. But the lack of trees has to be pointed out because, you see, the Roadrunner has found what it was looking for earlier.

An acorn.

What business does an acorn have, being out in the middle of a desert where there are no trees?

"Hmmm. That's weird." Tails has the presence of mind to check and see if the acorn is rigged to any traps or if it is the handle of a hidden doorway. But no, it's just an acorn. Tails picks the acorn up and looks at the Roadrunner. "Uhm. Did you want to eat this or something?"

Because Tails is three and half feet tall, he does not notice the incoming hostile twitchy screaming blur which is less than four inches tall.

The Roadrunner grins and waits.

Tails is a warrior, of sorts but he is caught badly off guard and shorter creatures tend to be difficult to defend against. Especially when the shorter creature also has very large teeth. Extra especially when the shorter creature is a kind-of-warrior with literally millions of years worth of practice at going berserk. So Tails soon gets both of his tails metaphorically handed to him by the wild-eyed saber-toothed furry little Owner of the Acorn.

For anyone wondering how a prehistoric creature can be here at all... We've mentioned that time is slightly out of order, right? Did you not notice Boris and Natasha appearing in a flashback a few chapters ago? Honestly. They are not young criminals but they are not more than a hundred years old, either. They're just sneaky. And when time and space go out of order - it's a colossal mess. Can the mess be cleaned up? For better or worse, we're bound to find out eventually. Aren't we? Let's hope so.

Team Lore is now complete. Insert cheering here.

Mythology will try to find a theme song for them later. If there is a later.

Fate has just found a theme song for someone else.

**ooxoo**

**"I**'m bad, I'm bad, you know it..." sings a Michael Jackson impersonator. In a music video. On a television.

Click. The channel changes. "Hei-ho Silver, away!" exclaims a warrior sitting on a small not-very-colorful horse. The horse scowls and teleports, again. Without taking the passenger. So the warrior falls to the ground in an undignified heap. His faithful sidekick will cherish this moment forever.

Click. "Now hold your horses." drawls a John Wayne impersonator in a western movie that's being rerun on television. He pauses and it's a closeup of just his face so you can't even see who he is talking to or what they are doing. But his expression does change. "Uh. No, I didn't actually mean that literally..."

Another teleport.

Click. "Congratulations, Kakarotto." snarls a perpetually scowling saiyan warrior with dark hair that stands on end. Not that you can see much of his hair. He has an even more extreme closeup than the John Wayne impersonator did. So mostly what you can see is his forehead which is full of pulsing veins of irritation. "You've spent the better part of three years in outer space doing intensive warrior training with mysterious aliens and FOR WHAT? You have struggled to learn an 'ultimate' skill that COMES NATURALLY to SMALL COLORFUL PONIES. Strongest in the universe? HA. It's embarrassing that you would even try to make such a claim! Especially since that title was supposed to be rightfully MINE anyway! You want to see ultimate power? I'll SHOW YOU some ultimate power! Or DIE TRYING. AGAIN. Oh and just to be clear - when I say 'die', I do NOT mean 'go to another dimension'! Got it?! We have ENOUGH problems of our own without getting mangled by things from other dimensions! Hey... Why are you picking up the gravity cham- AAAAAHHHH!"

Shiny Migraine has to teleport to escape the devestating exchange of energy blasts. So do the original small colorful ponies.

The television set is turned off and blows up, before anyone can try to marry it.

Dr. Robotnik is in a hospital. He only had a few... Well... Okay. So he was hurt. He'd been blown up, run over, trampled and all but shot. Although technically, he'd also been shot. By his own cannon. Still. He couldn't complain. Being an evil madman bent on ruling the planet - these kinds of things happened. Getting hurt was a risk that you had to take, in this line of work. He'd certainly had his share of injuries from previous adventures. Dr. Robotnik could cringe at the recall of his previous injuries if he wanted to spend time dwelling on that - but he didn't. Because what mattered, in the long run, was that he'd always gotten better.

And this was not magic, it was science.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik did not like to think about his age. He did not celebrate his birthday anymore and so he wasn't even counting really. But he was, by his own best estimates, around eighty years old. And he knew this mainly because of his family and...

Yes. He had a family. Parents. Grandparents. Uncles. Aunts. Cousins.

One of his cousins had been a girl named Maria. She had been born with a terminal illness. Her grandfather... His grandfather... It was the same person. Dr. Gerald Robotnik. The man who had built Shadow. The brilliant but twisted genius who had lived on a spacestation, had cut deals with aliens and had eventually been killed by the military. That guy. Ivo was his grandson. Maria was his granddaughter.

She had been born... And that by itself was amazing because her terminal illness was called N.I.D. Neuro-immune disorder. Which meant... Well. In healthy humans, the body naturally tried to heal itself when it got sick. In Maria... Things had gotten confused. Her own immune system had been attacking her. Hence treatments and cures that normally made other people heal and get better... When you tried to improve the health of the immune system in someone whose immune system had betrayed them... That did not usually go well. And the illness had also been in her brain. Hence the 'neuro' in the diseases name. Therefore Maria had spent most of her very young childhood bedridden and on life support, full of tubes and wires...

In hospitals.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik was old enough to remember Maria and he'd always hated visiting hospitals, because of those memories.

Maria had been in intensive care since birth and had not been getting better. Health issues tended to spiral, there was a domino effect. If a person was already suffering from one sickness then they were often also more vulnerable than average to developing other problems. The body can be overwhelmed. Having an immune system that doesn't like you, doesn't help. Just looking after Maria and trying to keep track of all the medicines... How much of what to take when and what kind of side effects to expect and all the possible complications... It had been a lot of work. A lot of stress. Marias parents had needed extra support on a daily basis. And Marias mother had been the younger sibling of Ivos father. So Ivos parents had been part of the group that had helped. The families had lived together. Near hospitals. If not in hospitals. On Earth. Her grandfather, Gerald, had only taken over when all the other doctors had given up. Packing... Transporting Maria... They'd had to take the whole bed because the terminally ill child hadn't been able to sit or stand. The trip from Earth up to the spacestation... Just getting clearance to go to the spacestation had involved a lot of paperwork and had taken a while - even with people at the spacestation helping them. They'd had to get it verified in triplicate that Marias rare genetic disorder was not contagious.

The spacestation had been called the A.R.K. which stood for the advanced research kolony. Why the elite geniuses in residence had deliberately chosen to misspell the word colony was anyones guess but it was probably symbolic of their breaking away from Earthbound civilization or something.

Getting to the A.R.K had been a long and fairly dull trip. Ivo had been there but he'd been in the background. A kid. He'd been ignored since keeping young Maria alive had been a demanding task for the adults. Deep down, he'd been excited anyway because he rarely got to see his eccentric grandfather and... No. That hadn't worked out either. The trip had been long but the actual stay on the spacestation had been, for Ivo, short. The families had not gotten permission to stay. They'd just been delivering the little girl. The farewells had been hard on all of them, especially Marias parents. What Ivo remembered most about his Uncle and Aunt was how they had tearfully said goodbye to their daughter because from his point of view, it had been awkward and had taken ages. Maria had gotten to stay behind, living with her grandfather and being cared for by some of the finest - if most twisted - minds in...well, _orbiting_...the world.

Basically, Ivo had spent a significant portion of his life being jealous. Maria got all the attention. Maria got to live on a spacestation full of high-tech labs and amazing experiments. She had been surrounded by people who wanted to keep her alive and spoil her rotten. And she wasn't even healthy enough to appreciate... That's where the jealously stopped.

Still. Ivo had become a mad scientist bent on ruling the world not because of Sonic but - originally - because of Maria. People would have to notice him, if he ruled the world. Right? His grandfather would have to... Even with his family dead and gone, Dr. Ivo Robotnik continued on some level to crave the approval and the attention. He could have been out for revenge - and he occasionally was - but for the most part... He did not often feel the need to avenge his kin. He wasn't always proud of his family. He wasn't always happy that they had been his family. They'd ignored him.

Imagine trying to live with a terminally ill little girl. You can't play with her. You can't play around her. You can't play at all. The adults are always exhausted and serious, so there's a lot of short tempers and rules about behaving solomnly. This was not Marias fault. The rules hadn't been her idea. But the rules had happened because of Maria, anyway and she'd never actually known about them. Maria had spent her time on Earth drifting restlessly between the fragile states of asleep and awake. Hence the emotionally drained caregiving adults around Maria just plain could not understand how any child blessed with health could dare to complain about anything. The adults had percieved their rules as simple respectful requests. Even though the underlying essence of what all those simple requests had added up to was: hey you, kid - do not be a kid.

You think this is uncommon? You're wrong. Go to any place where there are kids and adults. Observe. If five minutes can pass without someone telling a kid to 'be quiet' or 'sit still' then the universe is probably malfunctioning. Adults are always telling children not to be so childish. It is such a habit that the adults don't even consciously realize that they are doing this, most of the time. And whether or not this logic - or possible absence of logic - is appropriate or the right thing to do is a debate that might never be resolved. Because even though kids are kids... If you don't eventually teach them how to be adults then what will they grow up to be? Or will they grow up at all?

Ivo had grown up fast.

Once, during his early years of conquest... Ivo had captured a little piece of the world. And his first act had been to literally outlaw all fun. In other words... He had tried to force the area under his control to experience roughly the situation that he himself had grown up in.

Nowadays, goal number one was kill the hedgehog. But originally Ivo had wanted to try and control the whole world because he had sincerely felt that he'd never had much control over his own life.

His parents, Marias parents, his grandfather... A lot of people had died. Ivo had outlived them. Because he'd run away from home. He hadn't been with the rest of the family when...

There had been wars long before the so-called Great War and there had been a lot of fighting that didn't even get called war, in the history books. There was a lot of fighting that didn't even make it into any history books. The government on Earth and the government on A.R.K. hadn't always gotten along but they had depended on each other and that had kept the peace for a while. Earth had supplied the spacestation with resources and raw materials. The spacestation had supplied Earth with life-altering inventions and news about aliens. When the fighting between the locations had gone public and official, for a resident of Earth to even just be related to someone on the A.R.K... It was hazardous. It made you guilty by association. It made you an enemy. And Gerald had been well known. So of course his entire family had been hunted.

Ivo had been closing on age twenty, when all that had gone down. And he'd run away from home long before that. He wasn't certain about how most of his relatives had died but he knew that they were dead. His own parents... Ivo knew from hacking into government records and recovering some of his grandfathers files that his own parents were dead but he had no idea of - and no real desire to know the almost certainly gory graphic details of - exactly what had happened to them.

However Ivo did know what had happened to his grandfather, Gerald. And he also knew how his cousin, Maria, had died. And that was the kicker, really.

Maria had made it - barely - to the age of thirteen. Which was far more than anyone had ever expected. And she'd been living on the spacestation when G.U.N invaded and... Maria had been shot and killed. But she had tried to run away.

Read that again.

The girl born with the terminal illness had tried to run away.

She had gotten better, in other words. Maria had been well enough to stand. And walk. And run. And just be - without being bedridden and on life support, full of tubes and wires. Gerald had, somehow, cured her.

Precisely how Shadow fit into this part of the equation, nobody alive knew. Except for Rouge, who had made an educated guess. And also for Dr. Ivo Robotnik, who had figured this out a while ago and just plain wasn't telling anyone. Ever. But he was an evil genius and he'd had the notes from his grandfathers research. And he HAD managed to trick, capture and work with/around/on Shadow a few times since first becoming aware of the fact that the dark hedgehog still existed. And so...

Dr. Ivo Robotnik was mortal. He was not immune to pain. He was not invincible. Yet he had always healed from things rather quickly and... After all that had happened to him on previous adventures... Including being maybe dead at least once... He was still here. And his age - it was a number. An estimate. Nothing more. Whether or not he was aging at all... Physically, he'd stopped aging years ago. Ivo wasn't precisely a picture of health - what with being bald and somewhat overweight and so forth - but he didn't hardly look half his age. And he was still strong.

If Maria had been born a healthy child then her grandfather, Gerald, would not have had to look for a cure for a rare genetic disorder and by extension her cousin, Ivo would not have benefitted from the discovery of that cure. So it was - for Ivo - a very good thing, that he was old enough to remember Maria. And he did sometimes feel the need to avenge her, along with the rest of his family. But the local animals were quite talented at blowing things up and confusing the human military. And Shadow - even if he was an artificial lifeform with severe amnesia - was no slacker when it came to avenging things. So Ivo didn't really have anything left to add.

Mostly, he still wanted to conquer the whole world just to prove that he could.

And he didn't usually end up in hospitals. Because he didn't usually need them.

_Thank you, Grandpa._ Dr. Ivo Robotnik paused and examined his hospital room which - aside from the bed and the space that had formerly been the television - was crowded with presents. _And...er...thank you...Gotham City._

Batman had been on his list of creatures to destroy. One of the trades. Dr. Robotnik was not quite sure what had actually happened to the Dark Knight but it must have been fairly awful. The entire criminal community of Gotham City had already paid Ivos hospital bill and sent presents. There were gift baskets, flowers, balloons and cards... The gift baskets were ticking. The flowers looked poisoness. The balloons were leaking something noxious. The cards were full of riddles and bad jokes. What could you expect, when they were from crime lords and ladies?

Nevertheless, it was kind of like having a birthday party. Minus the cake and ice cream. Not that Ivo celebrated his birthday, anymore. He was too old, for that sort of thing.

He'd never gotten to have a birthday party, when he was a kid. His parents had loved him, yes but they'd not shown it very much since they'd been busy helping to take care of their terminally ill niece. Days had blurred together in the hospitals. Parties of any kind had seemed like noisy messy inappropriate wastes of money. Who could be in the mood to have fun? It wouldn't have been fair to Maria, anyway. She would have been left out. She couldn't have played the party games. She couldn't have eaten cake and ice cream or...

Ivo wouldn't have minded some cake, right now. And that pink hedgehog knew how to bake.

Oh, all right. So he did know Amys name. He didn't like to acknowledge this since it didn't seem very evil but... Heck, Amy Rose was practically an adopted great-granddaughter to him. They didn't agree on everything or visit each other much but... Ivo listened to her complain about school, Amy listened to him complain about things blowing up and they both commiserated on the shortcomings of a certain blue hedgehog. Amy could cut off her bangs and diet and work out - and Sonic didn't notice. Ivo could spend all kinds of time and money putting together an obstacle course or trying to invent a new trap - and Sonic barely even paused to taunt him anymore.

So the real reason that Dr. Ivo Robotnik could not think of a way to use Amy Rose against Sonic was because - lack of social skills aside - he didn't actually want to hurt Amy. He kind of liked helping Amy with her homework. Doing the homework gave him a chance to show off. What true evil genius turns down a chance to show off? Not Ivo. And it was sort of nice to feel needed and appreciated, once in a while. Not that Ivo would have openly admitted to such things. Professional pride and evil reputation aside... Ivo didn't want to think about family that much. His own family... Ivo had ancestors. He'd avoided having descendants. The world government had been after him for more than fifty years and Sonic had been defeating him for...what was it now? Perhaps around ten years? Already? Maybe more? Anyway. It was kind of hard to settle down when you had to worry about that. Not that Ivo had ever truly been interested in settling down. That sounded boring.

The struggling evil genius and Sonic shared that much common ground.

But Amy Rose... It was hard not to think about family, around her. Because Amy talked about family. A lot. The family that she already had and the family she wanted to have someday and... Also... In her own unique way... Amy kind of reminded Ivo of Maria. Because during that long trip from Earth to the spacestation... Maria had been a delicate little thing but she had been determined to live. She had been fighting the illness for every minute of every day. There had been flashes of intense courage from that girl. Ivo had respected his cousin, even when he'd been jealous of her.

Shadow had made the comparison once, between Amy and Maria. But Shadow could be reminded of Maria by more or less anything that was female and also in danger, his memory wasn't that sharp. Apparently the one clear memory that the dark hedgehog had was of Maria dying. Whether or not Shadow had ever really known or understood that much about the girl... Perhaps he didn't remember her very well. It was hard to believe that Shadow could remember her well if all that he knew about Maria anymore was how she had died. Just that one moment... Certainly it had been a dramatic and telling moment but... Marias life hadn't been great but it had been more than one moment. You couldn't judge her, by one moment.

Ivo did not have amnesia. And he was older than Shadow. And Shadow had been built more than fifty years ago.

Maria... If she'd still been alive... Would have probably been in her seventies.

She was dead. For more than fifty years, Maria had been dead. She had hardly been a teenager. She'd not even been armed. And the people who had shot Maria... had been people. Humans. Not aliens or robots or animals or anything else. People. Average soldiers, following orders. Doing their jobs and working for the government. Working for G.U.N. Some of the soldiers had worked for the government for a long time. Some of them had visited the spacestation before and had known Maria. They had seen her grow up, watched her get better - and they had still shot her. They had known that Maria wasn't a government agent, had known that she wasn't a warrior. Had known that she had parents and other relatives living down on Earth. Had known that even if those people all got killed or taken prisoner, there would be other people who would have been willing and able to raise her. The government could have just captured Maria. But they'd shot her. To death.

They hadn't shot Gerald. They could have but they hadn't. Instead, the human military had captured Gerald. Alive. They'd captured, interrogated, tortured and tried to force the genius into working for them - and had eventually killed him. Because the brilliant but twisted old man had never been all that sane to begin with and he'd lost his mind to grief and anger rather quickly after becoming a political prisoner. Gerald had never forgiven the soldiers for killing his peers and coworkers on the spacestation, his relatives on Earth or his precious granddaughter. Especially not his granddaughter. He hadn't been about to cooperate with anyone who had killed his favorite grandchild.

And... The incredibly tragic point was... Maybe... In some very deranged way... They had been right, to do so.

**ooxoo**

**S**hadow had been captured and taken prisoner. He'd been held in suspended animation for fifty years. Why had the government even bothered to keep him alive? Why hadn't they just shot him as well? Maria was the answer to the last question. She had taken the bullets to save her friend and had even flung him into a spacepod. Shadow had watched the girl die while knowing that he should have been the one dying. He had escaped from the spacestation while knowing that Maria should have been the one escaping. That he should have been the one guarding her. But Maria had chosen, in her dramatic and telling final moment, to reverse the roles and...

Still. Even just accidentally, the government could have killed the dark hedgehog. Once they'd caught him, anyway. A power outage to the life support systems while he was being kept in suspended animation - that sort of thing. Ultimate whatever, he wouldn't have been able to resist any efforts to kill him while trapped and unconscious.

He hadn't been able to resist anything, while trapped and unconscious.

Perhaps it was just as well that Shadow had no memory of his imprisonment.

At some point, prior to his death in a lonely maximum security padded cell... Dr. Gerald Robotnik had been reunited with his most ambitious project and had, in his grief and anger, turned the already formidable dark hedgehog into an official living weapon. That much, everyone who knew Shadow was supposively aware of. But the details... And the rest...

Rouge had figured it out.

Anything that gets classed as military property, it's going to have a paper trail. Anything that gets built by scientists and then held in captivity by the military for half a century... Yea. Shadows official government file was essentially just the cliffnotes version of a much larger body of work. If absolutely amazing things can happen in mere seconds then the kinds of things that can happen in the space of fifty years... There had certainly been secret military experiments but the real...risk...was not where anyone would expect. The real risk... Was simple and profound. Brilliant and twisted. And more than anyone would ever care to know, probably.

Definitely more than Shadow would ever care to know.

That was part of why they'd had the argument.

Rouge was exhausted from all the stress and hard work that she'd done to help save the island. So now that the island was finally kind of safe... She didn't feel like arguing too much about keeping the secret.

Why keep secrets, if the world was ending?

Amy Rose had asked that. And she had read the secret agent mission file. So Amy Rose understood that the world was falling apart again - it seemed to try and do that every once in a while - but she didn't really understand why it was happening this time around. And Rouge seemed to.

Rouge knew that sharing information might be the only way to get ahead and no one else worth telling the story to was around. Sonic was not here and he did not like standing still to listen, anyway. Fox boy was not here. The Guardian was not here and neither was the rock that he typically guarded. Amy had not seen or heard from her elite warrior friends. Neither had Rouge. They didn't understand why not. They could understand Cream not being around since the polite little seven year old hated to fight. And they could understand Shadow not being around since he could warp space and time and had such a bad memory that he could sometimes get lost in a room with only two exits. But... The others? Rouge just hoped that they were saving the world - but she wasn't going to assume that was the case. Amy just hoped that they were all safe - but she doubted it.

So, yea. Secrets? Ha. Rouge might as well tell Amy. At least then if they happened to cross paths with any of the other heros, Amy could be the one to fill them in. Rouge had already had an argument with Shadow about the whole issue. She didn't much care to repeat the story multiple times - but Shadow probably wouldn't remember the argument and it seemed doubtful that even Sonic could be a full step ahead on this particular adventure. So eventually someone might have to tell them what was going on and why it was going on and Rouge didn't want to be that someone. Thus Rouge was sitting in the drivers side seat of a flying car, leaning on the steering and yawning between terse replies. She wasn't completely polite and they weren't having what could be called a friendly conversation but Amy was getting answers. And Amy was observant.

Amy had been through some of those battles in the past. She'd noticed quite a lot of things about Shadow that just didn't make any sense. Thus the news wasn't even all that new to her it was just... Deranged. And weird, to have it confirmed. And weirder, to think that on some level poor Shadow had to be aware of this. Even if he didn't consciously remember anything, how could he not be aware of...

But how to fix it?

This was a headache. What the problem was shaping up to be... As far as Amy Rose understood it... Was that they maybe couldn't save Sonic if they couldn't save the multiverse. And they couldn't save the multiverse if they couldn't save Shadow. And they had to save Maria in order to save Shadow. But Maria had been dead for more than fifty years. And so the true core gist of the problem was: they were stuck. They had to save Maria without actually saving Maria. Because undoing her death risked undoing her life. And undoing life OR death on anything... But especially Maria... The potential consequences...

What if Shadow had never existed, for a start? What if Ivo had grown up to build alarm clocks? What if Gerald had just studied the constellations instead of dabbling in biochemistry? Would it have prevented war? Would it have prevented alien invasion? Would it have prevented animals from migrating to the city? Would it have prevented bands of heroic orphans from being orphans and crossing paths? Would there have even been any robots? Would the world have been a happy and peaceful place, not in need of saving?

And what if it hadn't been?

If time travel was possible... Then what if this timeline... This one, right here... Before Shadow had warped it and Sonic had fallen into another dimension... What if this had been the best that anyone could do? What if the alternatives were worse? And how long did they have, before time and space started bending and fusing and really getting distorted and they found out just how much worse?

With so many potential alternative universes and timelines and dimensions out there... There had to be some overlapping areas, didn't there? So maybe the fusions had already begun. Maybe things were already being taken apart and put together in subtle new ways. Maybe battles that had never been in the history books before were now being mentioned and new ancient ruins were being found and...

Future, past - maybe all that they had for sure was the present. The moment. The right here, right now.

Although when everything is in motion... The definitions of 'here' and 'now' tended to change. Because change was a constant. Even better than a law.

Rouge and Amy were sitting in the Batmobile. The Batmobile had changed. The most awesome professional race car in the multiverse was still sleek and curvy but was no longer a beautiful pitch black. Pressing every button in the car at once had confused the newly sentient vehicle. While the car had been trying to understand what was going on, the chaos emerald lurking within the car had taken over. So now the car was a bright flashing golden masterpiece with red headlights.

Yes. We are now dealing with a Super Batmobile.

Somewhere in this twisted dimension, there is almost certainly a man getting arrested for trying to change into a super costume in a public phone booth. Don't worry about him though, all he has to do is put his geeky glasses back on and nobody will recognize him. Not even his own girlfriend. Kind of makes you wonder if she really cares about him. Also makes you wonder who built those geeky glasses.

Humans - and even some aliens - only needed the right fashion accessories and/or an unhealthy amount of anger to go super, apparently. For animals... Or at least for the humanoid animals native to this world... Going super was a transformation that required at least six or seven chaos emeralds. But they WERE chaos emeralds, with heavy emphasis on the word 'chaos'. So rules didn't generally apply to them, unless they felt like playing along. And six or seven - maybe that was the special recipe for a hedgehog or a kitsune or an echidna. But perhaps a car only needed one. Or perhaps anyone could go super with just one but maybe the transformation lasted longer if more chaos emeralds were used. Then again, maybe not. The chaos emeralds could probably choose whether or not they wanted to transform anything and for how long. When there were six or seven or eight... Like any group, the chaos emeralds did not always get along with each other. So the results were never the same. But when there was just one chaos emerald around to make the decisions... The words 'chaos' and 'consistant' likely do not belong in the same sentance but perhaps you get the idea.

If you don't, run away screaming. Really. You might feel better.

Still here? Okay. Lets go.

The Batmobile, by the way, is a car. Thus it is without gender. So Jewel becomes the first non-male creature in a major multiverse to achieve the super transformation. Maybe girls - human or animal or whatever else - couldn't go super, in most major dimensions. Or maybe the females just didn't need to go super. Probably, they just didn't need to.

For some reason, it's just way more fun if they don't ever need to.

Don't forget that the girls tend to be fashion conscious, too. Flashing golden fur? Red eyes? Ew. What could you even wear with that?

Anyway. The no-longer-floating island was now safely parked on a military base. The Super Batmobile had provided the power to move the island, the fleet of jets had done the steering and the city had been saved. The entire island was still wrapped in tangled visible music and was being taken prisoner. G.U.N was already on the brink of declaring war on itself since they didn't really understand what was going on with the world and that was frustrating. Also the army division owned the base, the air force division owned the jets and the navy division felt that all islands should be their territory by default. Each division wanted the credit for the capture and they also all wanted the place for themselves. Whether they were going to conduct terrible experiments or play card games or maybe film a musical - who knew. Taxpayers just funded the military, they didn't ask questions.

Except for some of the more observant and abnormal ones.

"Is this Area 51 or something?" wonders Amy Rose.

"Does it have a gift shop and a schedule of tours?" Rouge grumbled and yawned. "Please. 51 is just a decoy."

"Oh." Amy tries to see something about the base that is worth mentioning but really, the only thing worth mentioning here was that they had a lot of fences and a large island. Parked on land. Was it still correct to call it an island, if it wasn't parked in the air or on the water? Amy had no idea. She glanced at the grumpy bat and frowned. "Why do you hate me?"

_As long as we're telling secrets, we might as well have that out of the way._ thought Amy Rose.

"How old are you now?" Rouge asked.

"I'm thirteen." replies Amy.

Rouge considers saying _Come back and ask that when you're eighteen. At least._ but then remembers that if the world ends, that's not going to happen. Still. Some things are best left unsaid. So instead of the direct truth, Rouge verbally sidesteps. "Look... We're just... Very different. You chase guys and don't have a job. I have more work than I can ever hope to finish in this lifetime and guys come after me. Stuff like that."

And, perhaps unfortunately... Amy Rose is observant. She catches a glimpse of the truth. She has an intuition for what has been verbally sidestepped. She isn't psychic so she doesn't catch all of it. Just part. But that's enough. "Stuff like...family...huh?"

There is a pause.

"Do you miss your parents?" Amy inquires.

Rouge scowls at the steering wheel for a while then sighs, mutters a few creative phrases and finishes at a slightly louder volume with. "They're still alive. I could find them if I wanted to. I have chosen not to. Okay?"

There's an uncomfortable pause. Which is almost visably filled with Amy Rose trying to imagine what could cause any creature under the age of nineteen to leave home and become a jewel thief in the first place.

As if aware of this and disgusted by it, Rouge deepens her scowl and eventually snaps. "Not that it is ANY of your business... But they are jewelers, okay? Yes. I am a jewel thief from a family of jewelers. Yes. I robbed them. They were proud of me but also ticked. We don't precisely hate each other. We just all like rocks better and we're not good at sharing. So we don't exactly keep in touch and... You tell anyone this and I will kill you. I am not even kidding. If it was better known that we were family... They might be used against me. Or vice versa. I don't want my family being at risk. I don't want them even knowing my address. So can we _please_ just get back to saving the world now?"

"Sure." Amy shrugs and pretends to be looking in the rearview mirror. Woodstock is still perched on her headband, snoring. "How?"

How to save Maria without actually saving Maria? It sounded impossible. But, mathematically speaking and in defiance of logic and physics, perhaps nothing is truly impossible. Except for the word 'impossible'.

Fate thinks impossible would be an interesting name for a band.

Mythology thinks impossible sounds like a delicious flavor of ice cream.

Rouge owns a casino. She can estimate the odds. She doesn't like to be in losing situations but she also knows the potential value of betting on the long shot. She considers. "If you had to choose between Sonic and the world...?"

"Sonic." Amy says with casual ease - but she really really means it. She didn't always understand the blue hero or feel appreciated by him or all the rest... And it might not make much sense, to save Sonic and not save the world but... The choice was easy for Amy Rose. If she had the power to save Sonic then no matter what, she had to save Sonic. The galactic-scale crush would not step aside anymore.

Yet another pause.

"We are very different, aren't we?" sighs Amy, watching the little snoring bird on her head in the rearview mirror. Woodstock is dreaming in tie-dye patterns. His dreams are visible. "If you had to choose between anyone that you cared about and the world... Then you would choose the world, wouldn't you?"

"Yes." Rouge yawns and inspects her gloved hands while wishing that the steering wheel was not just decoration but it was since the golden car was steering itself. Maybe they would have to get a different vehicle or maybe they'd be able to reason with the car once super mode wore off. Hopefully, super mode would wear off soon. Team Jewel had things to do. "And I hate being right, sometimes."

**ooxoo**

**T**eam Jewel has been very busy, haven't they? They have kind of saved the no-longer-floating island - the location is now a prisoner but is not trying to crash into anywhere, at least. Team Jewel has also helped to save an entire city - Schroeder will get the media attention and public credit for that, though - and they're still hard at work.

What about all the other teams?

Team Lore has barely formed but given the unstable magical nature of the members, that's no surprise. You had be careful when mixing such forces. They are bound to have some dire challenges ahead of them, which only the Roadrunner is currently aware of. Team Rocket now exists in at least two dimensions and had more members than can be counted, if you include the ghosts. And you'd better include the ghosts. They don't like being overlooked. Dr. Robotnik was, as an evil genius, opposed to teamwork on the basic principle that it seemed heroic. But he is on a team whether he likes it or not. Whether he knows it or not. So place your bets and keep an eye out. Meanwhile... Now that everyone else has been given a running head start...

Cue the music.

Fate attempts to remix the opening theme songs from five different movies. Was Fate invited to be in any of those movies? No. So the remix doesn't go very well.

Mythology invests in earplugs.

Cut the music.

Shiny Migraine felt a...well...migraine coming on. The poor not-so-colorful pony had finally arrived in an underground tunnel. Not a dark place, either. A well lit and tidy underground tunnel with carpet and multiple doorways. There were no movie cameras or saiyan warriors, which was a relief. No one was even around.

But someone was coming. The doorways were sliding open, one at a time.

Shiny Migraine was a psychic type pokemon. Teleporting was a natural attack for this particular horse - it could teleport all day, if it wanted to. Teleport was such a reflex for this animal... It could teleport by accident or even while sleeping. But the small not-so-colorful pony had been through rather a lot, just lately and was tired of ending up in bizarre places. So instead of teleporting yet again, Shiny Migraine decided to try a different trick.

For a psychic horse that doesn't want to be seen, a different trick is standing in one place and thinking very loudly that it can't be seen.

So other creatures might walk right past it and think: _Was that a horse? Nah. I couldn't have seen a horse. That doesn't make any sense._

And then the doorways would slide closed, one at a time and the horse would be left standing there thinking: _Did I just see a humanoid pig dragging a patch of casino wallpaper? Nah. I couldn't have. That doesn't make any sense._

Shiny Migraine yawns, stretches and shakes out its mane of clouds before kicking a doorway open and trotting off. To kick another door open. And another one. And... This could take a while.

Outside, in the world above the tunnel... The city had started to fuse with cities of other dimensions. Which was havoc, for the weatherman and also for the traffic reporters. But it was night time so all that the residents here had really noticed so far was that there were a few more cafes, abandoned warehouses and elaborate decorative fountains around all of the sudden - or maybe they had always been there. The city skyline now included an enchanted fairytale castle, a circus tent with a giant ferris wheel, a pair of towering majestic asian pagodas, an ancient greek temple, a viking warship, a space shuttle launching pad, Mount Rushmore and a pyramid. But those were probably just new casinos. That had always been there.

Also... Less noticed... One of the local theaters had closed.

Rouges casino was right next door to a theater. The theater... It had never had a name or maybe the name had just been forgotten. It was a grand old building from the outside - it looked like it might have originally been a bank - but on the inside... Well. This theater wasn't the kind of place where you went to watch high definition 3D movies in surround sound on a screen larger than some houses. What it was, instead, was a place with a moderate silver screen and rows of benches instead of comfy chairs and... A stage. Down in front of the screen, there was a stage. For live performances. It wasn't exactly Broadway but it was the same concept, on a smaller scale and lesser budget. The theater had been a charming old place and was on a valuable piece of real estate. Rouge had considered buying the building but the owners had never wanted to sell.

And now it was closed. As in, closed down. As in, boards hammered up over the windows. As in, not about to reopen for business.

But the owners still wouldn't sell.

The real estate had become more valuable than numbers could express.

Down beneath the stage... Was the tunnel. And where the tunnel ended - but the tunnel had two ends. Above ground, on that end of the tunnel there was a well-hidden trapdoor in the stage. Underground, on the even more well-hidden end of the tunnel... There was a vault. Which swung open to reveal an imposing sterile doorway with two words engraved in bold print on a shiny metallic sign above the doors: Muppet Labs.

The halls were not usually empty here but being the fifth and half dimension... Their world had overlapped the other dimensions to begin with. Their world had practically dissolved when it had been pulled into the vortex. Muppet Labs was unique enough to survive the flux. But the muppets themselves... Well. Lets see. Two worked at the labs. And another two were obscure rabbits, who had gone to a family reunion. Some of the chickens and fraggles had gotten out. And the rest... Had come down on the pokemon side of the interdimensional tug-of-war.

Mrs. Piggy essentially had the future of her own dimension in her hands. She could choose to fight and try to save it or just let it go. And she was choosing to fight.

Perhaps all that you really need to know about Mrs. Piggy is this: she had ALWAYS chosen to fight. She had never just accepted things as they were.

However in order to better understand her, you'd need to know a little more.

Mrs. Piggy had been born _above_ a bad sign, in the loft of a barn. The sign had belonged to a butcher shop. Her family had moved as soon as possible. Her father had died of either natural causes or natural instincts while she was young and her mother had ignored her. Her extended biological family could give you more of a headache than the squirrels but considerably less of a headache than the rabbits. Yet she'd never gone to stay with any relatives while she was young. Even as an adult, she'd only briefly visited a few other members of her own species. She had her reasons for generally avoiding other members of her own species. Don't ask.

Full of ambition and the desire to prove her worth by achieving fame and fortune, Mrs. Piggy had been independent. She'd run away from home and had grown up fast. With only a tiny pet poodle for friendship and support, she had spent her childhood making her way towards the biggest city that she had ever heard of. She had always been fashion conscious and interested in glamour so she'd taken to entering beauty contests to help fund her travel and build her reputation.

Pigs are not usually considered beautiful but Mrs. Piggy had entered the contests anyway and possibly by sheer force of personality, she had started winning. She had worked her way from rags to riches. She had aspired to be in the movies, had gotten into the movies, had met a frog while she was there, had fallen in love with the frog for reasons that she couldn't entirely express, had ignored the flirty advances from other male movie stars, had married the frog - didn't that sound like a kind of glamorous princess-y-thing to do? - and then... Just when everything had been going so nicely... Life had surprised her. And not in a pleasant way.

Fate was innocent, on at least this count.

Mythology has taken out the earplugs and is sincerely amazed that this isn't even in any of its departments.

Nature had laws, sure. But humans also made laws of their own. And sometimes the humans tried to apply those laws to everything else, as well. And Mrs. Piggys marital status had become a controversial case in point. Humans had looked at the frog and the pig and had said: No. Was it any of the humans business? No. But the humans had gotten involved anyway. The frog and pig had both been consenting adults to their own wedding but now... The argument being made... It wasn't even about the fact that the bride and groom were different colors or species. It was about the cameras.

Humans were claiming that their marriage didn't count as legal because it had happened during a movie. The frog and pig had wanted it this way. They'd met because of movies. Most of their friends were in movies. So they'd had a movie wedding. The bills for the wedding had been very real. The church had been real. The hundreds of guests had been as real as they could manage - and some had managed less well than others - but they had witnessed the whole real ceremony. So what had made the event fictional... The basis of this bizarre claim... Was filming the wedding. As if no other wedding had ever had any kind of recording equipment present. It just made no sense. But ridiculous though the claim was... It was, so far, holding up in the courts. So she was technically Miss Piggy. And also Mrs. Piggy. Both at once.

She had a first name and a middle name as well but hardly anyone ever used them. Not even her maybe-husband. She had the type of...presence...that could inspire a certain amount of respectful politeness even in creatures who weren't normally polite.

Married or not, she had never really settled down.

Therefore she was not entirely sure about saving the world. No. Mrs. Piggy had mixed feelings about the world. Some days she honestly felt that maybe an apocalypse would be a good thing. She didn't like the humans trying to revoke her marriage and she REALLY didn't like the potential long-term consequences of such a blatantly stupid argument being upheld in court. Justice might be blind but that was no excuse.

She was loyal to her friends though and was therefore mostly out to save her tiny pet poodle. Much as Mrs. Piggy loved the frog and all... Things were kind of...even more...awkward between them now that their marriage was in dispute. Especially since the frog seemed to have selective amnesia about the marriage. Whether or not this behavior was deliberate, Mrs. Piggy could not be totally sure but it hurt her feelings either way. So even more than anyone else... Yea. She was just out to save her dog. The tiny pet poodle had been with her for the longest and was the only ally that she truly felt comfortable around anymore. So she had to save her dog. And if she had to try and defend her marriage - again - well, then. Things could get messy. But she'd gotten away with it last time.

What? Someone had once tried to explain to Mrs. Piggy that her marriage was legally fictional. Someone might have even tried to explain to Mrs. Piggy that she was fictional. She'd said yeah right, over her dead body and she was still alive. The other creature - not so much.

Asking for her precise age might earn about the same reaction.

Insert a proverb about fearing the wrath of a scorned woman here. How anyone had lived to make such an accurate observation is an unsolved mystery.

Espio was wondering if it was in the ninja honor code, though.

Nope. Shame on those ninja ancestors for overlooking the obvious. Oh sure, they could write informative books about ways to kill people with nearly anything that was handy and give long lectures about how to use any non-floor-surface as the floor. But it seemed that they had nothing to share on the wisdom of fleeing from polite little girls or scorned women. And what they could have written about the Muppet Labs would have probably been along the lines of: Just do not ever go there. Ever. Seriously.

There was a poster inside the formal imposing doorway. It said: You don't have to have brains to work here but if you do happen to bring them, please consider making a donation to our research.

Whether or not the creature who had put the poster up was joking was unclear.

Passing a room with an operating table and shelves full of brains floating in jars of bubbling ooze was not reassuring.

Mrs. Piggy was not exactly a martial arts master. She could probably fling a martial arts master through a concrete wall, if she caught them off guard. And since almost no martial arts masters in any part of the multiverse are expecting to be attacked by a female humanoid pig... Mrs. Piggy had the element of surprise on her side, more or less constantly. She could start a fight - and with her style, that was enough to knock most creatures out. Which was intentional. Because if a martial arts master or any other experienced warrior survived and recovered from the initial onslaught then Mrs. Piggy - amazing and hazardous though she was - might have had to retreat.

Then again... She was pink. Which probably made her the most abnormal one, by someones standards. And she knew a few things about flirting which was almost a martial art of its own, sometimes. And she kept her high-heels sharpened.

Still. Espio was not technically trapped. Not yet. He was a ninja. And a chameleon. Escape could have been his middle name - it wasn't - but he did have a knack for it. And there had already been a horse who had considerately kicked down all the sealed doors in the tunnel. So getting away would not have been too much of a challenge or even very time consuming.

But the casino was right next door.

And so... As the current head of security at the casino, Espio had noticed that... This tunnel, he'd seen parts of it before. On a security monitor. And... He also knew... That there were a couple of places in the casino... Where no matter what he'd done to try and correct the problem... The cameras were there but the images had never shown up on any of his...

_Oh no..._ thinks Espio.

Oh, yes. says Fate.

If _those_ dysfunctional cameras were linked into the security system of this lab, instead of into the security system in the casino... Then the creatures down here... How long had the wires been crossed? How long had the creatures down here been watching? They must have seen at least a few... And maybe even the more recent... And embarrassment aside, with this knowledge in his head then Espio couldn't leave without trying to...err... Well. Maybe just destroy the whole place.

He was a ninja. With an honor code. But he was also a teenager, who was sleep deprived and under considerable stress. As a chameleon, Espio always tried to blend in. Embarrassment tended to come from being snuck up on and/or revealed. He'd sneeze and blow his own cover. Or be discovered by a robot. Or have a certain smug robot put a knot in his tail. Or be affectionately pranked by one of his own friends. Or be accidentally discovered by a customer if they tried to lean on a wall. Or be assaulted by monsters belonging to a little rabbit girl.

And so the thought occurred, among many other far more creative thoughts: If the creatures down here had seen THAT whole incident... What else did they know? And actually.. If they had seen that... Then why did they want anything to do with him? He hadn't exactly been impressive.

Espio could have been an amazing team leader - but he didn't like to lead. He'd followed Vector, at the detective agency. He'd followed Knuckles, at the island. He'd followed Rouge and Sonic and even Shadow and Silver and... Leadership was a deeply serious responsibility. Leadership... He'd had teachers, once. They had never quite finished teaching him. Espio was an aspiring ninja master. Not a full-fledged ninja master. He was darn close these days but didn't view himself that way. So he didn't really think of himself as a leader, either. He was the head of security at the casino but it wasn't his casino, so he wasn't a leader.

He was potentially the single most dangerous living creature in this world. And like all the very best warriors... He trained and sparred and practiced... But deep down, he didn't care much for fighting. Because deep down... He was a chameleon. And chameleons, naturally, just blended in.

But he was going to have to get over that.

Mrs. Piggy knew how to be a leader. Even if nobody followed her. Even if everyone ran away screaming. She was practiced, in such situations.

And she already had a plan of attack for saving her dog. Because someone else had come up with it. Hey. She's still the leader, okay? Leaders have to know how to listen and use ideas, don't they? And Mrs. Piggy had access to some...hopefully unique...minds.

Muppet Labs has two residents. One is a lab assistant. His name is Beaker but they might as well have called him The Humanoid Matchstick since that is what he looks like. Beaker is tall, skinny and rectangular with short red hair that stands on end and wild eyes. He spontaneously catches fire and runs away screaming in high-pitched gibberish. Every day. You could set a watch by it. The resident scientist probably does.

Dr. Bunsen might be an unknown fugitive from the A.R.K. He was a brilliant but twisted genius. Who lacked physical eyes. And wore geeky glasses. He also wore a lab coat and a tie. He spent his days inventing things that would have sounded impossible. Or useless. Even in other labs. Of all the gadget labs in the multiverse... The Muppet Labs set the standard, for inventing things that sounded impossible and useless - but never completely were. And lately, they'd had a very special project.

There was a motorcycle. With a sidecar. On a platform. Under a spotlight. Rouge might have owned it once. Shadow might have stolen and lost it. Next door. The motorcycle had been a secret agent vehicle to begin with but Dr. Bunsen had seized it and given the vehicle his special treatment. Beaker had likely been the crash test dummy in multiple experiments that should not be tried at home. Or anywhere else. Yet the vehicle still managed to look like something that humans might sell their own mothers for. Or try to marry.

Motorcycles are called hogs sometimes, aren't they? So who better to drive a hog than Mrs. Piggy? She had a valid bikers license, even if her marriage license was in dispute. Go figure. But as eye-catching and feature-loaded and sleek-yet-disturbing as the bike now is... Forget it.

Espio has just seen something else even more disturbing. And he really wishes that he hadn't.

They do have a poster of him down here. It's been labeled: BAIT.

A blue platypus wearing a hat arrives, via his own underground tunnel. He sumersaults though the air, lands on his feet and stands with the group. Being a platypus, he makes a series of noises that combine a quack and a growl.

"Agent P." says Dr. Bunsen, bowing politely to the blue platypus who has been sent over to help them out with an extra special mission. Then he turns to the humanoid pig, whom he also respects and bows slightly to. "And... Agent P. And... Bait. Ahem. Wonderful. Everyone's here. We can begin."

Say hello to Team Prospects.

I had prospects, once. says Fate. And NOW I WILL HAVE THEM AGAIN. MWUHAHAHA.

Are you feeling well? asks Mythology, sounding concerned.

Better than ever. says Fate, calmly.

Wasn't a very evil laugh, though. Mythology remains skeptical. Are you sure that you're all right?

Oh hush, sniffs Fate.

"There is NO WAY-" Espio tries to leave. He has no clue what the overall plan is but he is not interested in being bait.

Unfortunately for Espio, he is visible as a patch of lizard-shaped casino wallpaper. And Mrs. Piggy knows a few things about applying effective choke holds. And the platypus IS a martial arts master. And Dr. Bunsen was kind of expecting that this might happen, so he invented something for the occasion. And Beaker has just spilled some superglue.

Some things, not even a chameleon ninja can escape.

Fate is just one of those things.

Resistance...is...cliche. giggles Fate. SO OF COURSE I'M PREPARED TO DEAL WITH IT.

... When is the last time that you slept? Maybe you ought to go and have a nice lie down? says Mythology.

I am NOT tired! yawns Fate.

Mythology scowls in a parental tone.

Oh, fine. Fate grumbles, Just a short nap. Where's my teddy?

Your teddy ran away screaming. says Mythology. Remember? But you can borrow my care bear - IF you promise to be nice. He's never been quite the same, after being an organ donor. I know that being an organ donor is a noble and caring thing but... I still can't believe that you tricked him into giving his actual physical beating heart to some weird human in a skin-tight dark costume...

Insert a very short cutscene of Gotham City Hospital here. It's even worse than a PokeCenter. In fact this situation is SO bad that we'll almost certainly have to get back to it later. But just in case there is no later... You can hear a fictional human doctor in his office, shouting: "WE HAD NO CHOICE! IT WAS THE ONLY WAY TO SAVE HIM!" And the sad thing is, this doctor probably says that about most of his patients. And he's not even the only deranged human doctor working there now. End the cutscene.

The commentators leave, arguing mildly with each other about ethics, to take a nap. Nobody misses them.

Back at the Muppet Labs...Ten violent but hilarious minutes, two weird but surprisingly harmful inventions and a crowbar later... Espio is no longer physically attached to the wall but he is still wearing too much of it to go anywhere right away.

"...ow..."

"Hmf." Mrs. Piggy frowns at the crowbar which has been ruined by all this. She tosses the mangled crowbar over her shoulder. It will land in another dimension and kill a small human boy named Kenny. Mrs. Piggy is not aware of this but even if she was, she might not care very much. Her attention is elsewhere. She scowls down at the lizard. "You're the one who got covered in superglue!"

Beaker says something in high-pitched gibberish, probably about how Kenny is one of his relatives and so the kid will be fine. The platypus grits his teeth, shakes a meaningful webbed fist at his defeated ninja opponent and growl-quacks.

Espio is visible as himself. Which means - if you look past the fact that he is currently wearing a lot of wall - being a humanoid chameleon with rather aerodynamic features. He has a curly tail. He has a nasal horn that suggests being distant relatives with a rhino. There are short triangular spikes down his back which is another reason why he can't easily wear clothes. His skin is a lovely shade of reddish purple but there are places - his arms, his stomach and his nasal horn most notably - where his skin is yellow. His eyes are also yellow. Golden yellow.

So potential chameleon and ninja awesomeness factors aside... Espio has the basic super color scheme. He's got the right colors in the wrong places. Except... Maybe it's not wrong, for a lizard. Maybe lizards are naturally going to have a different look than other animals who go super. And perhaps he isn't too flashy about being super since he LIVES in this mode. It's not just some temporary transformation for him.

In other words... Maybe all that Espio really needs, to properly announce the superness... Is the right fashion accessory. And a reason to be stuck with it.

"There." Dr. Bunsen superglues a headband to Espios head. One of those fuzzy ones, with small fake triangular ears. And the fur is yellow inside the ears, dark purple outside the ears. Dr. Bunsen cheerfully consults a drawing. "Perfect." He notices the near-lethal ninja glare and shows Espio the drawing. "See?"

Espio is startled. He has to blink. The drawing could almost be a portrait of him, if he had real small triangular ears. But it's not. Because he doesn't. What kind of proper lizard had small triangular ears?

Never ask a question like that if you don't REALLY want to know the answer.

"What...is...THAT?" Espio asks.

Oh dear, there's no avoiding it now.

"According to our research this drawing depicts an actual, geniune, we're-not-even-making-this-up ancient legendary pokemon." chuckles Dr. Bunsen. Who is brilliant but twisted and almost certainly could have come up with the plan on his own - but he didn't have to. While the Muppet Labs security system has crossed some wires with Rouges casino, the Muppet Labs computer database has crossed some files with old obscure Pokemon League records. Because even though nobody really believed in ancient legendary pokemon anymore... The League had once kept official records on all of them. Even the one that nobody had _ever_ really believed in. The one that Espio happened to look rather a lot like. Yes. That one.

MissingNo has just been found.

"And now, for all intents and purposes, you are it." finishes Dr. Bunsen.

To say that Espio is bewildered would be an understatement. He's doing his best to stay calm but that is not easy. "WHAT?! But... I'm eighteen! That is not ancient! And legendary? Well... I try. Who doesn't? But... That's not the point! Look, I'm not even completely certain what a polka-mon IS and..."

Fate attempts to return to the story, to put on and maybe even try to remix some polka music.

Mythology saves us from that.

"Oh, that's all right." soothes Dr. Bunsen, casually pressing a button. Walls slide and change configuration to reveal the true horrors of what has been constructed in the Muppet Labs. "We can train you here."

There's an obstacle course that not even Beaker or Kenny, nevermind an aspiring ninja master stuck with fake ears, would want anything to do with. Most of the scary looking parts are labeled Muppet Labs but some of them are labeled Acme. However those are just the most visible ones and the maze is vast, it stretches away to a distant horizon. The new buildings and assorted landmarks that have appeared in the city - the Muppet Labs is now occupying such a large underground area that it is connected to all of them.

Dr. Bunsen is holding a stopwatch. "We've made it a timed course." He says with calm but cheerful pride. "If you take more than three point seven minutes to collect all the secret mystery prizes and find the exit then the whole thing will self-destruct. Ready?"

Oh dear, it appears that Espio has come down with a severe case of incredibly bad day. But then who ever said that being an ancient legendary pokemon was going to be easy? Not us.

"Do we have time for this?" says Mrs. Piggy, sounding bored and irritated as she surveys the obstacle course. She is worried about her tiny pet poodle and still wants to be the leader.

The blue platypus yawns, as if the obstacle course might not even be a challenge for him. He is also bored. He kind of hates standing still.

"Well..." Dr. Bunsen seems disappointed but puts away the stopwatch. "I suppose there IS another way. Come with me."

The resident scientist of the Muppet Labs goes towards the operating room with the shelves full of brains in jars. Mrs. Piggy and the blue platypus follow him. Espio is wearing too much wall to be able to properly resist being dragged off.

A mariachi band of burrowing owls in traditional mexican costumes has come down the tunnel. Beaker puts on a mexican costume, finds a harmonica and joins them. The band strums a few dramatic notes, their music gives the impression of being the buildup to a shootout in a classic western film. The lead singer waits for a moderate closeup and then leans into a security camera. "De lizard?" A pause while the band members exchange knowing glances and shake their heads sadly. The lead singer strums another dramatic note and leans towards the camera again. "He es gonna die."

But they've said that before, about a different chameleon and they were wrong last time. So who knows.

**ooxoo**

**"D**id ya ever get the feeling that you might be missing something kinda important?" muses Rocket J. Squirrel.

Bullwinkle misses this, although he is standing right here. Knuckles also misses this but it's because he has gone in search of a way to wash off face-paint.

They are still at Wossamata U. And so are a whole lot of other people. Not just students and football players and marching bands and firemen and college administration types anymore, either. The campus has some visitors. A popular game show is filming a special edition here.

Jeopardy.

If the Liberty Bell March ever gets remixed with the theme song from Jeopardy, please send Fate a copy of that.

"Look Roc," Bullwinkle points to the set, "that must be where the debate teams are going to compete!"

There were three podiums on the set. And they already had creatures behind them. The game show was about over.

"As a reminder for the audience, let me repeat the final question." says a human named Mr. Trebek. He turns to read the blue screen and doesn't seem at all fazed by the bold text he is reading aloud. He was probably a weatherman once. "Predators On Holiday - What Will They Eat Now?" He turns to face the contestants. "How exciting. What answer did you arrive at, Camilla?"

A somewhat obscure and fictional chicken is sitting behing the podium on the right. She has written the controversial but semi-valid reply of: _What is me or something that tastes like me?_ However her handwriting is - there's no point in denying it - chicken scratch. Therefore only highly trained doctors, some archeologists, professional abstract artists, mimes, weirdos from outer space and Woodstock could have read it. Oh and _maybe_ other chickens could have read it too. But the game show judges can't.

"I'm sorry. We can't accept...whatever that is." Mr. Trebek manages. "How much will it cost you? Ah. Everything. Too bad. And now... Err... For the contestant on the left please..."

Sitting behind the podium on the left is an even more fictional, if less obscure, Robot Chicken. It has printed, in legible computer fonts: _Surrender the dictionary. You will be assimilated by the automatic spellchecker. P.S. - Hi, Mom!_

"Uhm. No. Sorry. That's not...even remotely...the correct answer." says Mr. Trebek. "Ah. But you didn't bet anything. Interesting. So you're still in the lead. And now for the final contestant. Although... Under the circumstances..."

The final contestant, behind the middle podium, is a predator on holiday. And a super genius. And a bit distracted.

Wile E. Coyote has written: _What is... I sort of like fruit drinks?_

"Really?" says Mr. Trebek. "Ah." He looks to the judges. "Can we accept that? Hrm? Oh. Right." He turns back to the contestants. "Sorry. The question did say What Will They EAT Now. Nothing about drinks of any sort. So... You're wrong."

Insert some Jeopardy music here.

Wile E. erases his answer and we never get to see what he bet. The coyote does some more writing on his screen. He has spent years painting signs so his handwriting is very easy to read. _Pardon my saying so but this is just absurd. I am a predator. From a desert. Why should I have a favorite food? Do you think that I am a picky eater? Predators generally aren't and predators from deserts can't afford to be. A predator, even on holiday, is not going to change their eating habits that much. I have learned to avoid eating things with lore and I try not to eat things that have earned my respect and that's about it._

The coyote leaves this screen up for a moment and then erases it, to write some more. He's had half a century in silent isolation so he's earned the right to write. _Speaking of holidays... Travel is educational. During my vacation, I have noticed that humans charge a daily fee to patients staying in hospitals but not to prisoners staying in prison. Isn't that sort of backwards? Shouldn't hospitals be free to anyone who needs them and prisons have a daily charge for inmates? Or do you let the prisoners stay for free because your justice system has decayed to something worse than blind? Honestly. I have recently met little girls who have displayed more consistant levels of intelligence than your adult world government seems capable of doing. This annoys me. I wasn't planning on doing this originally but now I will have to run for a political office, to get even._

In the isolation of the desert, he was just a coyote with some lore. But he had gotten the lore from human cultures. And so, you see, out among human cultures a coyote with lore is suddenly a whole lot more dangerous. And this one was also a super genius. So he could feel the changes. Wile E. knew what he was becoming capable of. He'd never been able to remember what he was fully capable of, out in the desert. And he is remembering, now. That is why he's distracted.

The Robot Chicken immediately volunteers to be the coyotes campaign manager and they leave together, probably to see if Acme will be a corporate sponser. Camilla is attacking the game show judges - by fluttering around, standing on their heads and pecking at them - for not being able to read her handwriting.

"Ah. That was... unexpected, frightening and strangely justified. Erm." Mr. Trebek turns to the cameras but is probably speaking to the camera operators and film crew. "Next time that we film on a college campus perhaps we should consider having some college students participate? And maybe no more animals? Or robots?" He suggests, as the cameras finish recording and the credits roll.

Rocky and Bullwinkle might not know evil if they tripped on it - but they were, at least, animals. A squirrel and a moose. Not predators. So they had just enough natural instincts left in them to not be wholly comfortable with the idea of a predator running for a political office. Well. Humans were predators too, of course but... Not quite in the same way and...

"Guess it's going to be a political debate team." sighs Rocky, the most focused one on this side of Team Rocket. "You want to run against him or should I?"

Bullwinkle begins to answer and would probably say that he'd rather walk, than run but...

Knuckles has retained his bad timing. He returns, minus the face-paint but still in the football jersery and team-color cleats and with a broken arm in a cast. He's had yet another daring escape. And not just from his adoptive football team, this time. Some humans in bright costumes have tried to recruit him into several of their special fighting clubs. "WOULD ALL OF YOU WEIRD PEOPLE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!" Knuckles snarls, shaking the gloved fist on his healthly arm in their general direction.

Rocky and Bullwinkle do not have telepathy but they have been friends for a while. So they share an idea without speaking.

"Gosh, you're so popular..." starts the moose, in the tones of someone who is using forced flattery to try and get somewhere.

The squirrel decides to be more direct. "Hey Wolverine - would all those weird people vote for you, do you think?"

"...what have I missed?" Knuckles demands but in the tones of someone who sincerely wishes that they didn't have to know. Also in the tones of someone who has given up on correcting other creatures about his name and species, at least for a while.

"Wolverine for President!" blurts out Bullwinkle J. Moose, campaign manager extraordinarie. With extra heavy emphasis on the extraordinaire.

"Why not?" shrugs Rocky, who has already held political offices in the past and prefers to handle the logistics of the mission. Leaders can delegate, can't they?

"..." Knuckles is not feeling better. He'd rather live in isolation. He doesn't want the job. So he might just be perfect for it. If he can survive the election.

He does try to escape.

But Rocky has been carrying - in one sense or another - his best friend for slightly more than half a century. And this squirrels best friend is a moose who is easily double Rockys own height and more than triple his own weight. So Rocky can, without a doubt, pick up and fly off with a slightly mauled maybe-wolverine. And as far as footspeed goes... Bullwinkle has never had a problem keeping up with the flying squirrel. So even though he could choose to ignore the whole situation, he doesn't. The moose likes this mission.

Team Rocket blasts off, again. To the tune of the Liberty Bell March.

And now, for something completely different.

**ooxoo**

_**K**__ids with guns. Kids with guns. Taking over. And it won't be long..._

But there are some things that not even oddly upbeat music and British accents can accomplish.

"There is NO WAY I am taking a gun." says Cream.

DangerMouse has no problem with this and really wishes that they wouldn't play any of the music that he helped create while he is at work. It's distracting. And sort of...not modest. And he's a modest - if dangerous - mouse. He had never dreamed that the hobby he'd taken up as a half-joke would catch on like this and...

They are in a lab. A fully British lab. And not the usual specialized branch that DangerMouse goes to, since that place is tiny and he is currently five and half feet tall. The red double decker bus is parked outside. The red double decker bus looks completely ordinary. And it is. And then someone steals it.

No one here is going to notice that right away.

_Easy does it... Easy does it... They got something to be..._ continues the song.

Inspector Gadget was considered outdated and had retired from being an inspector detective centuries ago. He still knew a lot about gadgets - because he was literally full of them - so he worked on supplying things to the active agents. And being a robot, he has a nearly perfect memory. So of course he remembers his helpful sidekick, back when he'd had one. She had been a little girl. Who could shoot. If she absolutely had to. In self-defense. Or to save others. Mostly to save him. And she had started out being issued with a slingshot but the string had kept breaking so...

So he'd had to at least offer the gun.

It wasn't a gun that he would offer to just anyone. It had belonged to his sidekick, once.

That little girl... Her name had been Penny. Inspector Gadget could be clumsy and ineffective and outdated but... This robot had some strong feelings, as well. Penny had practically been a daughter to him - but she had been human. Penny had literally grown up saving her country next to him and being a robot, he hadn't aged. He'd watched her age. Retirement from active duty had been his own idea since he'd reluctantly realized that his sidekick had a definite lifespan - and he didn't. Inspector Gadget had done the math and had opted to put some distance between himself and his best friend.

As an adult Penny had gone on to work as a talented sidekick for a wide variety of other secret agents all over the world. She'd even worked with that popular decoy once or twice in movies. Inspector Gadget had decoded the secret agent company newsletter and had always been so proud of her accomplishments. But he hadn't regretted the distance. Because he hadn't wanted to be so close when he outlived her. Pennys lifespan had been surprisingly long, especially given her line of work and she'd never really looked her age but she had aged. Her death had been inevitable - it was for humans. As a robot, Inspector Gadget could have gotten some upgrades and gone back into service but... Being a hero again... It would have meant finding a new sidekick. And he didn't want that. That would have seemed disrepectful, to his deceased friend. No one could ever replace Penny, in his opinion. She had always been worth far more than her name implied.

Krackers and Cheese have both expressed a few creative thoughts about guns during this random sentimental moment.

DangerMouse has located the radio but instead of being able to turn it off, he has accidentally gotten it to skip to the middle of a different song. That he also helped create.

_...I'm a peace-lovin decoy, ready for retaliation... I change the whole occasion..._

Cream chooses to ignore these lame attempts at theme songs because she is polite. And she doesn't exactly agree with the monsters choice of words but she does agree with the gist of their argument and translates that. She speaks to Inspector Gadget. "Please excuse me, I am truly sorry if this seems rude but I don't even like water pistols. That's all. And I don't NEED any weapons. Because I have friends. And they won't let anything happen to me."

Not many creatures in the multiverse could sincerely use this argument. But for Cream - it's valid.

Cheese may be a chao, a small pale blue insect-looking-critter capable of mass destruction on a whim but then again he may be a guardian angel in disguise who just has a distinctly wicked sense of humor and a preferance for good old-fashioned smitings. Krackers is a pokemon. Which actually comes out to about the same thing.

And Cream has two other pokeballs with her now. Plus a spare. An empty one. Because she let someone escape.

Her own skills are considerable but she's even worse than Espio, about acknowledging them. Let alone using them. If she's on a team, Cream will always do her best to help and defend others but... She hesitates, to defend herself. Amy Rose is the little rabbits best friend. Cheese has been her loyal defender and flight instructor. But Sonic has, inadvertantly and indirectly, been her best teacher. Because hanging out with Amy Rose means hearing about Sonic. A lot.

In fact Cream probably would have learned less about Sonic if she'd been hanging out with him instead.

Cream knew all of Sonics attacks. And most of Tails attacks. And even some of Shadow, Knuckles and Rouges attacks. Even the ones that she hadn't seen herself. All because Amy Rose was observant.

And Cream was observant as well. Not as much as her best friend but... Certain former detectives had also been good teachers. Cream knew them. Kind of. She'd had to politely escape from them, once or twice. She'd been there to see them help save the world. She knew that her mom and the crocodile were penpals. So yes, Cream was even aware of some of their attacks. But Cream hadn't practiced those styles as much. Because Amy had her heart set on Sonic.

Prior to discovering boxercise, being comfortable with the hammer and coming up with her own style... Amy Rose... The pink hedgehog had always wanted to fit in. To catch up. To feel included. So Amy had tried to imitate her hero at first. And then Amy had gone through several stages where she'd tried to match the fighting skills of the other warriors - especially the kitsune, who was Sonics best friend - in strange attempts to impress and/or flatter her hero. And Cream, wanting to be helpful...

Cream hated to fight but in some strange twisted way, fighting had come naturally to her. Cream didn't know why. She had only been trying to help her best friend and... Instead, this seven year old girl had sort of accidentally and unintentionally frustrated Amy by picking up the other warriors styles. Attacks that Amy had never quite gotten the hang of, no matter how she tried... Cream had learned them with astonishing ease. And the passive little rabbit hadn't thought of it as sparring. Just... Exercising... Right?

Amy had once dieted and worked out like a maniac. She had needed someone to exercise with. Mostly someone to tell her when to stop. Amy could be very determined and competitive though, so telling her to stop didn't always work. Amy was thirteen. She didn't always react well to losing and she really didn't react well when losing to a polite apologetic kid half her age. Defeat usually made Amy frustrated and when frustrated, Amy went to train harder. Amy had trained because she wanted to be the hero. Because she thought that being more of a hero would help her to catch another hero. Cream was content to be the pink hedgehogs sidekick and had never even really thought of herself as a power type. Or a potential one-rabbit-show.

So Cream had usually ended up serving another function as well, common to certain sidekicks. She had often been there to dial the emergency numbers and politely but reproachfully say: "Amy? I hate to remind you of this - please don't think me rude - but I did try to warn you that doing three hundred situps in a row with so many weights is probably not good for... Hello? Emergency dispatch? Yes, it's me again. Sorry to bother you like this. If it's no trouble then could you please send the paramedics over right away? Hrm? Oh, no. Not this time. Situps. Three hundred. With weights. Uh-huh. I _know_. I did warn her."

Yet some of those exercise routines that Amy had taught her... The less hazardous and illogical routines... The attack sequences in slow motion... Cream had wanted to feel connected to her friends sometimes, even when they weren't around. So she had learned the exercises and had done them at home, as well. With Cheese. Sometimes even with her mom, Vanilla. Sometimes even with random friends from around Busy Town, like Huckleberry and Lowly Worm.

Hence Cream hadn't just learned from others but had gradually made her own improvements, as well. Because she couldn't mimic all the other warriors exactly. She wasn't their species. She didn't have quills or multiple tails or wings to work with. She didn't have a crocodiles jaw or a chameleons camouflage or a bees sting. So she'd just gradually and innocently and...naturally...created her own style. A rabbit style. And not just any rabbit syle, but HER style. And she'd never used most of her own style for self-defense because it was, in her own mind, not for self-defense. Just for exercise. Cream was seven and polite and hated fighting. And her heroic friends were all incredibly dangerous in their own ways, even the most abnormal one. So she didn't need too much self-defense. Her friends usually defended her.

Thus Cream was not even fully consciously aware of how dangerous she had become. Because she'd never actually had to be all that dangerous.

Still. In the battles of the past... Being able to spin and run and fly and glide and swim and keep up... Those had been useful skills. So Cream had stayed in practice, not wanting to lose such useful skills.

AND Cream was, to top all this off and in case we haven't made it clear enough, a humanoid rabbit.

But that was going to change.

Or was it?

She tried to use the pokeballs again. If Cream was going to become a pokemon trainer then she wanted to make sure that she knew how to use these things. And she was doing it right, holding each mini-soccer-ball up very carefully and pressing the button in the middle to release the creature within but...

The British Government had designed these pokeballs. They might have gotten the blueprints from Tails. They might have taken inspirations from the Muppet Labs. They might have even hired brilliant but twisted geeky people from Japan. They might have done all of the above and then some. The Brits were flat out gadget crazy, when they had to be. And when the Queen leaves the dimension - they had to be.

So when Cream tries to summon Vector... The pokeball itself turns into something that a swiss army knife collector would dearly love to own. Each patch of the soccer ball design has a different gadget sprouting from it. Not all of which were practical. Or logical. Although it probably never hurt to have a spare electric toothbrush. But that was just the pokeball. The brand new not-yet-official pokemon... There was a blur of light that did a sharp u-turn and went back into the pokeball, which clicked shut to the muffled beat of a wild beach party.

And when Cream attempts to summon Charmy... Another set of gadgets and a flicker of light that doesn't even leave the pokeball. However the pokeball makes the following sounds before clicking shut: _Captains Log. Stardate... Erm. We've lost track. Anyway. The crew is in a panic because apparently a strange alien lifeform has taken over the holodeck and... Oh. Yes. Go ahead and report. What? The entire computer system, you say? Especially the transporter beams? Really? Just now? Are the escape pods still working? Oh, that's right. We don't have any. Hrm. You know, maybe we shouldn't have relied on the transporter beams so much..._

Krackers and Cheese are in the background, fighting with each other for the spare pokeball.

DangerMouse has been calmly taking apart the radio and rebuilding it as something else. Like an interdimensional gateway. The dimensions have fused so much in some places that really, they probably don't even need an interdimensional gateway anymore. But they can use this one, anyway. Once.

Cream sighs. Politely.

She MIGHT be a delicate teeny tiny step closer to having the mindset of: Lets just get this over with.

Or not.

Yet.

An interdimensional gateway built from a radio is going to warp anything that steps through it. Because sound gets distorted when it travels through such barriers. Inspector Gadget is aware of this. And DJ...ahem... Agent DangerMouse is aware of this as well. But they aren't too worried about it. Because they're not going through. Inspector Gadget wants to stay retired from active duty, he's not had any upgrades. DangerMouse is still adjusting to being this height. And besides, between them - with their combined skills - they can find a way to manipulate the distortions. So even though a change can't be prevented... It can maybe be steered.

"Here." Inspector Gadget gives the little rabbit some plastic hair clips. Due to his former sidekick, he feels extra protective of anything that is a little girl. "Wear them on your ears. Speak into this one and you should be able to hear us in the other one. If you have questions or need help - we're here for you. We'll do our best."

"You are doing the right thing." DangerMouse reassures, clipping on a microphone as well. He feels a touch protective of anything that can maybe save his sidekick and his country. Especially if it's polite. And trustworthy. And has good ears. "The multiverse will be in your debt. The Queen will certainly reward you, once this is all over."

Cheese promises to redefine smiting, if needed. Krackers, not wanting to be outdone by an insect, promises to redefine tactics AND smiting.

Even with coaches like this... Cream still hesitates. She doesn't really care too much about rewards. But she does care about putting others first. Her Mom... And her friends... And her universe...

And...her band. That she doesn't know about. They share a name with her but Cream doesn't know them. She would probably like them, if she did know them. Cream might not listen to all their songs - not until she was older, anyway - but she'd probably respect the band members, if she knew them. She'd probably have them over for cake and tea. She's polite and loves making new friends. She can make friends with evil robots that have been programmed to kill her, why not a band? And she's always loved music, anyway. Cream dabbles in music herself, as best as a busy seven year old can. She owns a tambourine.

The band that she shares a name with doesn't always have a tambourine. Maybe they'd let her join, if they ever met.

The interdimensional gateway picks up a radio station. And of all the songs that it could have tuned into... It would have to pick up this one.

_...And the prophets in the boutiques give out messages of hope. With jingle bells and fairy tales and blind colliding scopes. And you can tell they're all the same underneath the pretty lies. Anyone for tennis, wouldn't that be nice?_

Cream steps through the gateway and rides the sound to the pokemon world. Taking two brand new false pokemon with her. And two monsters follow, one of which is already an actual pokemon. They will all be warped by the trip. A pile of slightly melted golden coins will trade places with them across the dimensions - and it will get warped as well.

Oh child, what have you become?

Kids are supposed to be the future, aren't they? So lets call it Team Future. As in, there might even be other members.

Nobody ever said that trying to stop a proper apocalpyse would be easy, did they?

If they did, they were probably lying.

Hey Team Lore, your time is NOW.

But we'll get back to that later. Yes indeed, it appears that there might even BE a later. It is just going to be warped.

**ooxoo**


	9. 4:3

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**4:3**

**T**HIS is how thoroughly messed up the situation has become.

Brace yourselves.

Things might get kind of tricky and abstract. We have to do this properly. It has to be legal and official. Kind of.

A human walks out the front door of his home. It might have been any home, anywhere but then again... No. It HAD to be this specific one. It really did. The house is a two story house, in a suburban residental area and not very interesting to see from the outside. There's a paved path that goes straight from the front door to the curbside mailbox.

There's not _always_ a mailbox here.

But today they have mail. So there's a mailbox.

The person checking the mail is a heavyset adult male. He sorts through the stack of paper, tossing most of it over his shoulder and muttering "...junk..." with each toss in a bored tone. And most of the mail IS junk mail. However there is one piece tha- "...junk..."

"Hey!" A white dog is sitting on the front step. He speaks in human languages and IS part humanoid, so humans can hear and understand him - if they're listening. "What was that?! That didn't look like... Whoa. NO WAY."

There's a envelope. With a name on it. And this house has seven residents in total. Yes. Seven. But this envelope is only for one of them.

"Meg NEVER gets any mail." says the dog. "Does she?"

The heavyset guy glances over. "Like I said, junk."

The dog remains skeptical but pulls a pair of tongs out of thin air to pick the letter up off the ground with. "I dunno, Peter. This looks kind of official and... If you could smell what I smell..."

"Did someone mention me?" Meg stands in the doorway. Her distant relatives probably include Kenny and Beaker. Her distant relatives might even include Candace, Isabella or Mrs. Piggy. Her immediate relatives, though, usually just make her life miserable. So Meg has the stoic expression of someone who is bored yet also sincerely expecting to be treated like an expendable bad punchline. Since that's what usually happens.

But the laws of nature have changed, remember? And if a proper apocalypse is going to bother to happen at all... Then you know what, why not just take everyone? And why not go for a scenic little ride down a road less traveled? You'd be surprised at how much of the territory is familiar.

"Yeah. There's a letter for you." says the dog, holding the envelope out with the pair of tongs.

Meg looks at the envelope as if expecting to have the paper blow up in her face. She takes the envelope anyway. It doesn't explode.

The entire family has to gather around to see this. No. It's not a choice. They HAVE to.

One stays in the house, anyway.

Meg opens the envelope and reads the letter. There's not a lot to read but what is there... Meg reads it. Silently. To herself. She blinks. She reads it again. She holds the single sheet of paper sideways, upsidedown and at a distance as if expecting the words to be different from those angles. She checks the back of the single sheet of paper and then the inside of the envelope, as if looking for more of an explanation. She reads the letter _again_ then frowns, adjusts her glasses, reaches a conclusion, crumples the paper into ball and tosses it over her shoulder. "Junk."

"I TOLD you..." begins the heavyset guy, her father.

The crumpled ball of paper does an inexplicable mid-air boomerang turn, uncrumpling in the process and landing on Megs face. So that she can read it yet again, if she really needs to. Meg scowls, takes the single sheet of paper off her face, tears it up into a million little pieces, throws it on the ground and burns it.

Oooo. She's good. But Fate and Mythology can match anyone at stubborness. Especially after they've had a nap.

The mailbox sprouts another copy of the letter.

"Okay... This is starting to creep me out." says the dog. Animals always seem to notice danger before people do, don't they? Well. Some animals do, don't they? Certain species, like mooses, could probably get away with ignoring such petty events as the world ending. But this is a humanoid dog. "I think I'll just go and film a musical or something. With the military."

He coughs, mutters "HINT HINT, nudge nudge" while coughing and then departs. Quickly. By himself.

What a smart dog.

One down. Six to go.

"Meg, honey - arentcha even gonna tell us what the letter said?" asks her mom.

"It was a scam! It HAD to be!" says Meg, who is so accustomed to being scammed that she doesn't know how else to react. But things have been clicking and fusing and coming together all over the multiverse - so lets say the idea starts to occur to her.

Meg develops, in order: an eye twitch, a vein of irritation, a slow smile and a really overdue evil laugh.

She lunges for the mailbox, after she's done laughing. "Lemme read that again..."

"IGNORE ME, WILL YOU?!" screams her infant brother. He pulls off all his clothes in one quick motion. Which somehow allows him to instantly change into a costume that covers even more of him. A bunny costume. Awww. The hood even has fake ears and there's a big fluffy tail on the backside. "I DISOWN YOU ALL!" He shakes an angry little paw at them and hops away, to join a different family. At a reunion.

He's gonna fit right in.

He's not even gonna be highly ranked.

Two down. Five to go.

"YOU LOSERS ARE DOOMED." Megs shrieks while pointing at the rest of her family. She cackles, pulls a baseball bat out of thin air, hops onto the baseball bat as if it were a broomstick and flys away.

But she'll be back.

Awkward pause time has arrived.

"Well that was awkward." says her father.

It's daytime. But behind them, up in the sky, there is a black dot. Small and distant enough to not seem very important. Yet large enough to eclipse the sun. So it is still daytime but now it is dark outside.

The remaining family members glance up at the Deathstar, yawn and radiate the general notion of: Been there. Done that. Got the couch.

Fate _knows_.

Mythology does some simple and profound math.

A perpetually scowling and extremely battered saiyan warrior with dark hair that stands on end falls out of the sky and slams face-first into the road. Landing in front of their house. He is dead and in another dimension and grumbles about this. The half-incoherant rant is not worth repeating but includes several creative phrases about gravity chambers, power levels, certain rival warriors, life not being fair and death not being fair either. A halo tries to appear over his head and he promptly destroys it. He wants nothing to do with halos. So all things considered, he seems rather alive. Even though he's not.

Now a saiyan warrior, it must be pointed out, is an absolute bugger of a creature to kill. This one was no exception. Even though he is currently dead. But the thing that makes a saiyan dangerous, you see... Is not merely their hair or their screaming or even their attacks. It's not their tendancy to get reincarnated at inconvenient moments or their apparently infinite power levels which must be corrupting something. No. What truly made a saiyan warrior dangerous was their basic excess of unfiltered natural instincts. Plus they came with the annoying but nifty ability to learn nearly any transformation that anyone - or anything - could invent. Saiyans could fuse. They could unfuse. They could be haunted. They could do more than their fair share of haunting. They could go super. They could go double and triple super. They could go mystical. They could even...look up at the moon and...

Oh, yes. We have to go there.

Vegeta looks up at the Deathstar.

Come on over to the dark side, child. You've never been that far away from it anyhow and you know that the light will just blind ya.

The Deathstar is fake moon, remember? So this corny cliche will work. Vegeta would rather not be caught dead here - but he is. And being dead has never prevented a saiyan from being able to transform. Therefore Vegeta begins the rather awkward and painful transformation into a giant were-monkey with glowing eyes and serious anger issues. And given how warped things are getting, he will probably even end with up three different colors of fur. Brown, red and yellow. As if his poor saiyan molecules can't honestly decide which one of their known were-monkey forms is better.

"I am SO offended right now... And yet I wouldn't have it any other way." remarks the heavyset guy.

"Peter! Do something!" screams his wife.

The heavyset guy strikes a pose, pumping the air with a fist. "Don't worry, Louis! I can handle this!" He lies. And then takes off his glasses. And rips off his clothes. Which is a trick that almost doesn't work for him but after a couple tries, he's in a superman costume. That doesn't fit him very well. And without his glasses he can't actually see very well. So he staggers across his front yard, squinting and trying to feel his way with his hands. He trips over his own feet, has a close encounter with a lawnmower, struggles with a garden hose, punches the mailbox, mangles at least five and half objects that should probably never be left in the front yard and that his family doesn't even own, is beaten down savagely by a harmless fern and eventually - inevitably - is terminally impaled on a lawn gnome.

It just had to be this way. Sorry.

Why did it have to be this way?

Oh. That's right.

The ghost of Peter sits up. He's annoyed but being dead has never actually prevented HIM from having an adventure, either. And he doesn't always just take off for another dimension. He stands, dusts himself off, puts his hands on his ghostly hips and scowls down at his own corpse. "Ugh. Would you just look at that. What kind of mess..." Being dead has repaired his vision. The ghost of Peter glares at the audience. The fourth wall is vaporized, never to completely return. "I am SO going to run for a political office now!"

He floats away. Wearing a superman costume that's too small for him. A halo doesn't even bother trying to appear over his head.

It's gonna be a tough election year.

Three down. Four to go.

Louis has not seen or heard the ghost. Maybe she could have - maybe she should have - but she didn't. She looks down at the corpse of her husband. Their marriage may be fictional and imperfect but it's also withstood the test of...nearly everything. They had some kind of love. They also had three kids and a long history together. But right now, what is left of her husband is not wearing glasses. So Louis fails to recognize him. "Who was that man?"

"Dunno, Mom." says their eldest son. His extended family may include mooses. He pauses and realizes something. "Hey... I'm an only child now! Sweet!"

Meg returns. She's recovered a little. She hops down from the baseball bat and goes into the house without even noticing the body in the yard or the giant monster in the street. "...just need to pack a few things... Oh. Hey, Chris? You know that monkey in your closet? The evil one? Can I borrow it? Mine escaped."

"Uh. Yea. Sure." says her brother, who is mildly startled that anyone would even ask.

Vegeta has already destroyed giant cardboard cutouts of Tokyo, London and New York for a warm up. Now he turns his own brand of unleashed giant were-monkey beserker rage to the actual local area.

There goes the neighborhood. Some of it, anyway.

"HEY! Nobody destroys our town! Except us!" says Louis. She does her own instant costume change and gets it right the first time. "I pity da fool!"

There's a sweet couple living right next door. A police officer in a wheelchair and his wife, who is always pregnant. The lady has been pregnant for years. Yet she has no children. Go figure. Whatever is going on with that... This lovely, polite, law-abiding couple could probably benefit from venting some serious internal anger at the universe in general. Louis knows this and goes next door to fetch them. The friends leave together in a black police van, after the wheelchair has been carefully loaded into the van. They are not driving very recklessly. Still. Whether their goal is to either save or destroy their own town is unclear. They may pick up a few other neighbors on the way and they will definitely slow the monster down. For a while.

But they won't be able to kill the monster. At least in part because he's already dead.

Also... With a permanently pregnant lady tagging along, these brave and potentially scary would-be heros had to stop at nearly every restroom in town. And they might pause to pick up a few items at crumbling shops. And so instead of dying a supposively glorious death in battle, they just get stepped on and blown up a little. They're still alive. Someone calls for an ambulance.

The ambulance comes from Gotham City Hospital.

Four down. Three to go.

"Cool! I'm an orphan!" says Chris and he strikes a celebratory pose for a second. Then he slumps and looks at the ground. "Awww. Now I feel sad."

At the mention of feelings, two little girls arrive in this scene. They don't have monkeys with them anymore. Or do they?

"Nihao!"

"Hola!"

Chris does not look up. These girls are both shorter than him so looking up to see who they were would not make any sense at all. Not even to him. "Uhm... Hi?"

"Awww. Why do you look so sad?" asks Kai-lan. Who would ask this of any living thing that looked sad. Actually, she would probably even ask non-living things.

Dora decides to explore inside the house. The door is wide open and there are a lot of interesting noises coming from within. She doesn't have to go very far. The living room is right inside the front door. Meg and the Evil Monkey are sitting in the living room, playing a video game against each other as violently as they can without really being violent. Which basically means that they are taking turns pointing menacingly at each other.

These little girls have THAT much lore.

"Uhm... Hi?" says Meg after losing another round of tetris and being pointed at, menacingly.

"Hola! You must be Meg!" Dora takes out a pokeball. It has been decorated to look like a pinata. She hands the pokeball over. "Here you go."

Meg starts remembering the letter. It does actually sound like a scam but... No. She really has been pre-approved for a very special limited and exclusive offer, if she would abide by certain terms and... "There's a monkey inside of that sphere, isn't there?"

"Wow. You're smart." says Dora. She is the same age as Cream. And unlike Charmy, she is sincerely not trying to be snide. She is just so polite that it comes out as blunt sometimes. "Take good care of mi amigo, se? Represent us well. I know you can do it! You have to. My schedule is full. I'm already the CEO of a successful business, a certified explorer, a princess, a professor, a translator, an environmental activist, a counselor... Yea. Estoy mucho ocupado." Dora smiles and shrugs. "And the whole 'battle is a sign of friendship' thing...? Expliqueme por favor. I don't get it. No tiene nada que ver conmigo. But I'd hate for my friend to miss out. He really wants to go and see for himself. So thanks for doing this. Le estoy muy agradecido."

Outside, Chris has been given a pep talk in a language that he doesn't know. It cheered him up anyway. He is now dressed as a panda. He will leave to discover kung fu.

He might even have to make a movie about it.

Five down. Two to go.

"SUPER!" Kai-lan does a little leap into the air and is inexplicably rewarded for this with a brief localized cloudburst of confetti and flower petals. She bows in the doorway and does not take off her shoes since she isn't going to be here long. She comes indoors and takes a pokeball out of her backpack. It has been decorated to look like the head of a cute dinosaur. Both the backpack and the pokeball, actually. Kai-lan is a fan of cute dinosaurs. This is something which tends to amaze boys, who honestly had no idea that little girls might be able to view lizards as cute but it REALLY amazes the lizards, on the rare occasion that anyone lets them know. She hands the dino-head shaped pokeball over. "Xiexienie, Meg!" And then she says about five paragraphs worth of uplifting Mandarin Chinese. But Kai-lan speaks very quickly, sometimes, when she's communicating in her native language.

Dora listens and translates the short version. She can do this because you have no idea how many languages her popular television show is broadcast in. "It means thanks. And be nice to her friend too, please. Treat these creatures with love and respect - and they'll be good to you." Dora pauses and then adds. "If you don't... It will be bad for them. And worse for you. Because we will find out."

Lightening strikes somewhere.

Evil Monkey hides behind Meg.

Dora and Kai-lan say cheerful goodbyes in their respective languages, wave from the doorway and then depart. Somehow they have remained completely oblivious of the corpse in the front yard and the violent battle raging in the town. Yea. They have THAT much lore. Of course they do. And it wasn't something they chose exactly, it was given to them. Inherited, even. They're just little girls. Pause and think about that.

There are only a few things in the multiverse more dangerous than rabbits. There are only a few things that can compete with the chaos emeralds, in terms of having a large family.

Metaphorically speaking, even little girls can be standing on the shoulders of giants. And classical masters.

Evil Monkey wasn't originally going to go along with this whole crazy adventure but he has some professional pride. He actually can't stand the idea of any other creature - let alone any other monkey - trying to be more evil than him. So when Meg eventually gets up and goes to the front door, to make sure the little girls are gone and then maybe seal herself into the house... She takes the baseball bat with her. And the Evil Monkey follows.

Outside, Vegeta is still technically dead and still stuck in giant were-monkey mode. He's off in the distance, rearranging the landscape - and not in the way that a responsible professional landscaper would.

The Deathstar is still in the sky. Distant. Small. Perfectly round.

Meg doesn't get it. Or maybe she does get it - but she doesn't believe it.

Evil Monkey wants to get this over with. So he steals the baseball bat, swats the Deathstar out of the sky and captures the giant were-monkey with really the only fictional pokeball that could have been plausibly used for this.

The motion raises some of the confetti and flower petals. They end up superglued to Megs hat. She almost always wears her hat, even under other hats - so this is a good place to display things. The confetti and flower petals happen to land in designs that mean they can pass for gym badges.

Meg is now pre-approved to be a ranked PokeMon League Champion. She's got a total of four unique monkeys with her and so she gets the...

Oh no.

An uninvited but unavoidable guest makes a cameo appearance. A man wearing overalls and a red hat. He is not a little girl but even as adult, he is about their height and seems to have borrowed some of their lore. He's a plumber, a freelance interdimensional hero and maybe even royal. With a mustache. He can speak quickly in fluent Italian with a heavy New York accent so even if Dora was still here, she might need help to translate for him. But what it comes down to is that this guy knows Sonic. He has worked with - and against - Sonic before. More than once. He respects the blue hedgehog these days and knows that Sonic will need the help. So he had to come. He pats Meg on the shoulder - or as close as he can reach - and gives her a pokeball that has been designed to look like a mushroom-banana hybrid.

Mario departs.

Okay. Let's try this again. So Meg has a total of five unique monkeys and...

Oh no.

Please, no.

...I guess we should...

Drat.

Squirrel Girl arrives. She is an adult but can giggle like a little girl. She hugs what may be a distant fractional descendant, gives Meg a pokeball that looks like an acorn and then leaves to kick extremely serious tail, somewhere. Far away. Not here. We don't need that. We really just don't.

We have enough problems, here.

Meg has no idea.

Fate, Mythology and something else DO.

Evil Monkey can sense the danger and considers returning to the closet but he still has too much professional pride.

Meg has been a pokemon trainer for slightly less than five minutes and she now has a total of six unique monkeys at her disposal. And at least half of them _might_ be loyal. She was only MEANT to start out with four, honestly but things are picking up speed. So she gets to start with six. And she gets the number four slot. It was reserved for her. Meg is now nearly officially PokeMon League Champion number four. But that's not a very trendy title so we'll give her a nickname, too. She was pre-approved. She has been chosen. Therefore, Meg is now The Chosen One.

And what has she been chosen for, exactly? Why did she get the job? Is it even a good job? Will it come with a payday?

All Meg has to do to find out is make her own way into the pokemon world and given the highly unstable magic fields around her town, that's not going to be too hard. Plus she already has a flying baseball bat that she can ride. The distortions in time and space might take care of the rest and the fact that the multiverse is ending might prevent too many people from noticing any serious inconsistancies.

Meg and Evil Monkey depart.

Seven down. That's everyone. Except...

The town is still in ruins. The remaining random citizens are still hurt, angry, bored, confused, offended, indifferent and/or oblivious. Several famous bands and at least three full orchestras are here. They are off in the background, fighting with each other for the right to provide Meg with a theme song. That could take a while to be resolved.

Have you noticed which dimension this is?

You've had hints.

Intelligent humanoid animals that can speak human languages. Dangerous forces. Ghosts. Aliens that are hard to kill. Scary hospitals. Interdimensional warriors. Unstable magic. The President. Good music. Random citizens.

Yes. It's a colossal overlapping fusing mess at the moment. Yes, it's a horrible traffic accident at a dimensional crossroads AND a five hundred meter race for creatures with no sense of direction. But somewhere under all this confusion, deep down... This is STILL Sonics home dimension. But this is just a sample of what can happen here, when Sonic leaves. And Sonic is not even the only one who has left. This is something that has been going on for a while. This is not something that happened just overnight. The interdimensional instability has been building up for a long time. How long? The history is unclear. The philosophical nitty is gritty. But _maybe_ it can be sorted out.

Nothing is truly impossible, right?

This should be interesting.

Lets go and see if they have a future. Or something else.

**ooxoo**


	10. 5:1

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**Author Notes:** No worries, I may have lost my mind by taking on this project but I haven't lost the plots. The plots have been here all along. This story hasn't shown you everything yet. After all, I wouldn't want it being too predictable. So please be patient. I'm trying to give the story some depth. Like the summary says, I'm trying to make fans look at these characters and worlds in a slightly different way. Hopefully, you'll be surprised.

You are of course totally welcome to point out all my errors in regards to any of the official series that get involved. However please also realize that, to a degree, it is ridiculous to do so. I do respect all of the official series but I am only taking what this story needs from them. If I really took everything from any of the official series for this story or any other story... That would not be fanfiction, that would be plagarism. Right? And aside from being illegal and unimaginative, that would be disrespectful to the people who created all these fictional worlds and allowed the fans to play in them. So thanks for the comments but please remember, I'm tweaking things. Some things less than others. It's surprising how well some of them fit together, isn't it?

**ooxoo**

**5:1**

**B**elieve it or not, some people actually tried to sleep at night.

Jim had a headache. He was an older man. He liked to be in bed early. He was the number one League Champion. His schedule was always full. He needed to get some sleep. But he owned more pokemon than anyone else in the world - and they were restless. Pokemon were dangerous enough, without also being grumpy. Jim couldn't sleep very well. He shared a home with his collection. He could hear the creatures shuffling around and picking fights with each other. And his phone kept ringing.

The world was changing. Was that what the animals were sensing? Was that why the pokemon were restless? It seemed likely but what could be done?

Jim didn't know. He also didn't know what to make of some of the reports that were coming in. Ancient ruins were turning up in places where they almost certainly hadn't been a few hours ago. New unregistered animals had been seen in the wild. No one was sure where these creatures had come from or who had built them or what kind of genetics they'd been built with. And there were other problems as well. Things were going missing. Things were getting mixed up. Known landmarks had inexplicably moved over a few yards. And...

The League Champion ranking was usually very stable. The top five had not changed for ages and now, suddenly... Things seemed a bit...off. Jim was still number one. Dragon Lady was still number three. But League Champion number four... Yes. Jim had noticed.

Dragon Lady hadn't noticed, yet. Because Dragon Lady had fainted. The League scientists at the Testing Facility had reported this. The League scientists were convinced that the Dragon Lady had fainted from being very angry. They were afraid to revive her. They had been asking for advice, when they called. Jim had given them some advice. Jim respected the Dragon Lady but wasn't sure what to think of her. She lived nearby, in the Johto region and was ranked the number three champion in the world. So Jim got to see her once in a while at League meetings. From a distance. Across a room, usually. She had never said much, even the few times that they'd actually spoken. Always seemed to wear a school uniform and have a new bandage on. Always seemed tough. Was Dragon Lady really getting into fights? But she was always so calm, at the meetings.

Jim was a good judge of character. It was a survival skill, around his home. So even though Jim didn't know Dragon Lady very well... He suspected that when people looked at the young lady sitting on the Mawsolaeronix... Then they probably mostly looked at the Mawsolaeronix. It was a large creature, kind of hard to miss. With glowing eyes and talons and the trio of sickle-shaped antlers. Which perhaps explained a lot, insofar as why Dragon Lady was widely regarded as fearsome. And no mistake, her zodiac themed pokemon team could certainly be fearsome. So it wasn't entirely bad for her to have the fearsome reputation, either.

Anyway. League Champion number four... Was currently someone that Jim wasn't certain that he had ever heard of before. Or had he always known her? How did that happen? WHEN did that happen? Why wasn't anyone really sure? It seemed like a subject that the League should be informed of. As the number one League Champion, it was hard not to take the subject personally. A low-ranked mysterious guy was one thing...

Jim tolerated Adam. He viewed Adam as an interesting potential rival. And he was determined to make the guy crack a smile one of these days. But slot number four... Jim couldn't even remember who had held that slot before. And he had been ranked as number one for a while, so he had probably known them. Even if he hadn't known them personally, Jim studied history. And he was a veteran League employee. He felt like he should know who had held the number four slot before. He had probably challenged the person who had held the number four slot before. To lose something and not even be able to remember what... Even if this new person, this Chosen One, was absolutely great... The whole experience was disturbing.

What in the world was going on?

And Champions number two and number five... They each lived in other parts of the world. Jim didn't see them much, so he mentally just labeled them by their rankings. But... The reports coming in... And when he'd tried to call these specific people, earlier this evening to see what they had to say about the reports... Suddenly they weren't answering their phones. Suddenly, he couldn't even leave messages for them. Champion two, he could understand. Maybe she was asleep. Being the second highest ranked pokemon trainer in the world - her schedule was demanding as well. And Champion five... Erm. Actually. She didn't always answer her phone, anyway. But as far as Jim knew, it wasn't like either of them to be completely out of touch. Even Champion five would call back when it was important.

Champion two, she kept tabs on an important historic area. And Champion five, she practically lived at League Headquarters.

And they were not answering their phones.

Even Jim was starting to feel restless.

Champion number three was called the Dragon Lady but there were other highly ranked dragon trainers. Not everyone rode their dragons because not all dragons were large enough to ride. Not every dragon trainer advertised that they had a dragon. For example... Champion two could calmly defeat an opponent without using her dragon. Although she tended to frighten people into surrendering before the fight even started. And Champion five... The lady was of course, skilled in combat but she was also... Elusive wasn't quite the correct word but it would have to do. About the only way to get a challenge with Champion five these days was to literally handcuff her to a fridge. And given her ability to pick locks, that wouldn't slow her down much. She might pause to raid the fridge before escaping, though.

Jim had wanted to have dragons, once. Truth be told - he still did. Jim had earned a nickname too. He wanted to collect one of every kind of pokemon alive. Therefore, he was The Collector.

But it was very expensive, to order even one dragon. And ordering a dragon seemed to automatically earn you challenges from every dragon trainer on the planet, ranked or not. They wanted to make sure that you really knew what you were getting into. Jim was not bothered by this. He had good teams to work with and could earn the right to expand his collection considerably by accepting the challenges and defeating so many people... but... His pokemon refused. All of them. The pokemon currently in his collection did not want a dragon being added to the collection. They were good loyal creatures but they refused to fight for something that they didn't want. And Jim respected that if a dragon was around... Then it wasn't just something that he would have to live with. No. If a dragon was around then his other pokemon would have to live with it, too. They would have to put up with it, too. And they would probably chase a dragon off, if he ever went ahead and got one without their consent. So it wasn't worth the fuss.

He had owned a Levileasaur, once. For less than a day. Levileasaur, the leafy skunkish-looking creature. No surprise - it had given off a noxious odor. Levileasaur might have been a great battle partner but none of the other pokemon in the collection had wanted to have it around. Jim wasn't certain what his other pokemon had done to it. Maybe his other pokemon had kicked the Levileasaur out and scared it off. Or perhaps they had grabbed the Levilasaur, stuffed it into a box, sealed the box well enough to prevent the odor from being noticed and express mailed the box to somewhere far away. Whatever had happened, had happened quickly. Levileasaur was gone. None of his pokemon would tell him what they'd done to the skunkish animal, not even the few that talked. Because they didn't want the Levileasaur being found.

Jim had to reluctantly admit that he wasn't looking for his escaped Levileasaur as much as he should. But he wasn't actually worried about the creature either. Nothing with a sense of smell would be able to get close enough to the Levileasaur to hurt it. And Jim didn't have a lot of time to search for it, either. His schedule was very full. His schedule seemed to get fuller, each time he thought about trying to locate the Levileasaur.

He was The Collector. So if Jim had to choose between having one pokemon with a perpetual noxious odor or all of his current battle partners... Then the collection won. With a dragon, it was the same story. He chose the collection. It bothered Jim to admit, if only to himself, that the collection could never truly be complete due to the simple fact that not all pokemon were willing to get along.

Jim listened to the phone ring again and considered unplugging it, so that he could maybe try to calm his creatures and also gather his own thoughts. He was tired and felt a bit unfocused. He was too worried to sleep but he wished that he could sleep. He didn't want to imagine what going to work tomorrow would be like, if he didn't get some sleep. His plans for the next day had been busy enough before all the reports had started coming in. He couldn't be expected to help sort out all these additional problems on no sleep, could he? Jim didn't think that was fair.

Still. Jim was kind of hoping to hear some good news. Even with all the weirdness that was apparently going on in the world now... Something out there had to be going right, didn't it? All these things happening so suddenly - might the troubles go away suddenly as well? Perhaps all the problems would take care of themselves by morning. Or maybe by then someone would at least know why all the strangeness was happening and what, if anything, could be done about it. So he left the phone plugged in but he let the answering machine pick up. Jim had dutifully taken some of the calls earlier but everyone in the League who knew him should know that it was past his bedtime. With as hectic as Jims normal schedule was... No one could be surprised that he needed some sleep. Yet the calls kept coming. At the rate that the reports were now coming in, it wasn't even practical for him to answer his phone anymore. Jim sincerely hoped that the same was true for the other Champions. He hoped that everyone was all right. He hoped that they were not having to fight to defend the headquarters or the historic sites or anything.

He heard the doorbell ring and ignored it. Jim was pretending to sleep. He was not going to go answer the door in his pajamas. Who would be coming to his house, at this time of night? Didn't anyone else need to rest anymore?

One of his pokemon answered the door.

"PREPARE FOR TROU-"

The door slammed.

Jim sighed. He got up, pulled on a robe over his pajamas and went downstairs, muttering all the way. He opened the front door. "Hullo, Anita. Do come in. I would hate for you to get stuck on the roof again."

She was always trying to break in, for some reason or another. Usually to try and steal a creature from his living collection. They had eventually - and mutually - decided that if she was going to invade so often then she might as well come in through the door. It was less humiliating for Anita, to use the door and less expensive for Jim, to open the door.

"...your monsters are as rude as ever, I see." Anita complained, slinking inside. She was dressed like an astronaut. "No sense of drama, either."

"Hrm." Jim yawned and shuffled towards the kitchen. He didn't remark on the outfit. They'd had scholarly arguments about whether or not the original Team Rocket members had ever dressed as astronauts and had agreed to disagree. "The critters have been a bit restless lately. Go ahead and try to kidnap one, though. I'll make the coffee and get the first aid kit."

"I am GOING to succeed one of these days, you know!" Anita shouted after him, shaking a fist.

"You always say that. How do you want your coffee?"

Honestly, Jim almost didn't even mind anymore. He respected Anitas persistance. He admired the work she had done as an investigative historian. And it was sort of nice to know that at least one person in the world didn't seem to dread challenging him. Well. Trying to challenge him. Er. Trying to challenge his pokemon, anyway. Jim had decided that it would be unfair and unsportsmanlike, for him to get involved in these battles anymore. His pokemon could handle it by themselves. He'd had a talk with them about manners, that one time. Not attacking all at once had become a house rule since then. That tactic was too messy and also tended to shorten the fight so much that nobody got any real training from the experience.

Yea. The attempted robberies... It was sort of like a chance to show off his collection. And even more like a chance to let someone else help train his collection. And it was also sort of funny, in a way. And sad. Because every time Anita came over to try and steal a pokemon from him... She had a good team. She really did. Professor Anita Dayoff - she had a feared team. So every time that she lost... It wasn't that she had a chance since she almost always tried to defeat the entire collection by herself... Literally by herself, sometimes. Her own pokemon didn't even do more than watch in bewilderment, sometimes. But... She had a better chance than a lot of other trainers. Which meant that she was, perhaps inadvertantly, making his team stronger. And she had been at this for years now.

"Which one are you after today?" Jim asked from the kitchen.

Anita scowled. She nearly wanted to brag about how good her sources were. The ghosts had told her where Vulpersian was. But she caught herself and instead settled for: "I'm not going to tell you that!"

"Well then, I can't tell you which room to look in first." shrugged Jim. He was stirring the coffee. In a pan. On the stove. He liked to make coffee without a coffee machine. It reminded him of camping trips. "Good luck."

He lived in a mansion.

He hadn't always lived in a mansion.

Anita had a pokemon team that did great in Gyms. Jim knew this. He'd witnessed some of those challenges. He'd gone out of his way, to witness some of those challenges. He'd taken notes once or twice. He'd given her notes, more than once or twice.

She was always taking a day off from her work. And Jim had a busy schedule. But Jim still managed to see her fairly often. Because Anita was always trying to break into his house. Once in a while she arrived when he was out and left a note, promising to return later. Anita seemed to feel that breaking into his home while he was out made her less of an outlaw. She had never openly said anything about honor or sportmanship to him. She'd just remarked - once, in a sulky irritated tone - that she wanted her rival to actually be there when he was finally defeated. Because her victory would be so anticlimatic, otherwise.

Overall it was kind of...considerate and strange. But that was Anita, for you.

Even without much sleep, Jim was a reasonably nice guy. He was a good judge of character. Otherwise he might have felt threatened and inclined to be hostile towards anyone breaking into his house. Although technically she wasn't really breaking in anymore since he opened the front door for her. With Anita... It was almost more like a neighbor coming over to check on him. They were enemies, though. Of course. But there was no point in being rude about it, was there? No. They had agreed on that much. Because they were also coworkers. They both worked for the League. Professor Dayoff just happened to work both sides of the law. When she worked.

Anita chose a door at random, opened the door and was blasted with water. She was drenched. She closed the door. She went to a different door, leaving a trail of puddles, opened the door and was blasted with dirt. She was now a walking mud ball. She closed the second door and slogged towards another door anyway, determined.

"How are your pokemon doing? I haven't heard them attack yet." Jim rummaged around in the kitchen. "Oh and have you tried the new snack bars that the League put out? They sent me a crateload for endorsing them. You could have a few if you wanted. I'm supposed to hand them out everyone. Raise awareness of the product."

Another door opened and closed, beyond the kitchen. Jim glanced up after a moment and smiled. He saw a smattering of colorful feathers drifting to the ground. Yes, his pokemon certainly knew what they were doing. He felt a bit embarrassed for Anita - who was now essentially covered in mud and feathers - but proud of his monsters, anyway. They'd attacked without destroying the house. They had defended themselves without seriously hurting anyone. It showed a lot of discipline, in Jims opinion. He would have to reward them later. Maybe the pokemon would eat some of the snack bars.

He lived in a mansion.

He'd never needed to install a home security system.

The collection was a lot of work but it did have benefits, sometimes. Jim didn't always get along with all of his creatures - the pokemon had more moods than he did but everyone had moods - however they did all enjoy living in a mansion. Especially since he'd had several of the rooms customized especially for the animals comfort. That was why the creatures went out of their way to try not to destroy the house. It wasn't always easy for the pokemon to control the strength of their own attacks but Jim had managed to instill a sense of co-ownership in them and that seemed to be good motivation.

Some people thought of themselves as the owners of their pokemon. Jim tended to think of himself as being sort of owned by them. As long as the pokemon shared that view, he felt that he would be able to rely on them. It had worked so far. He was the official number one League Champion.

Anita staggered to the open front door and yelled a few things at her own pokemon, who were outside. Waiting for her. Squirtantler was not the most attentive creature but it had given up on defeating the collection many attempts ago. Wheebok was deeply disgruntled but could not go on a rampage unless someone created the right conditions. And the wild pokemon ghosts... Were invisible. Not many had come along. But those who had... Glanced at all the restless living pokemon around the mansion. And then looked at the world in general.

The new genetic pokemon... They had been built. They had been customized. The pokemon were living weapons. They were the products of human companies. These creatures... None of the new genetic species were old enough to remember their world trying to end before. None of them were experienced at saving the world. None of them had been trained on how to deal with such an event. The pokemon could recognize and feel the danger but they didn't fully understand what all the signals meant. So it just made them grumpy and restless. However, unlike the genetic species, some of the ghosts WERE old enough to remember the world trying to end before. Therefore some of the ghosts recognized the omens as soon as they were paying attention. Maybe the ghosts should have become aware of the unraveling disaster first - but they hadn't. Ghosts usually had different priorites than living creatures.

Anita spent a long startled moment being flooded with new telepathic messages, as the ghosts caught on.

One of those telepathic messages was: Uhm. We aren't entirely sure about this...but judging from the energy...you might have just missed a very important phone call.

And Jim, the geeky number one League Champion, was sitting in his kitchen. He was not aware of the ghosts. But he WAS aware of all his restless pokemon and he actually checked his messages. He had been taking calls and listening to the answering machine all evening. The phone was still ringing, reports were still coming in. So Jim was privately thinking about the whole situation. _First Adam shows up, all mysterious. Then the sandwag. And now all this. Hrm._

Jim loved research and practically had his office at the Testing Facility. Anita was an official League Historian, even if she was hardly ever at the Museum. They both knew the stories of their world - although they favored different versions of what had happened. They both knew the pokemon could, probably and technically, save their world. If the creatures wanted to save the world. If the world needed saving. However being presented with the idea that maybe something was seriously wrong... That didn't give them much direction. It was like having vague instructions for something that they'd never expected to have to do. Something that they'd never done. Something that they weren't sure they really believed could be done. Or needed to be done.

Separately and for separate reasons... Jim and Anita each struggled to decide on what their next move should be.

"I should go home." Professor Anita Dayoff decided, reaching a conclusion first. She had left her phone at home. Maybe if she put it back together... Could a call be traced that way? Hrm. Perhaps. She didn't know much about technology. She would have to ask someone for help. That was okay. She had some ideas on who to call. Plus the journey home might give her a little time to try and process all the new information that the ghosts were sharing with her.

Anita didn't know where she stood on the whole issue of saving the world. She'd been cuddling with ghosts for a while. She was older than she looked. Her opinion of life was a bit muddled, sometimes. And if the world ended... Well. Ghosts would have to have equal rights again, if everyone was a ghost - wouldn't they? But... She wasn't really fond of the idea of everyone being ghosts. That made ghosts seem less special. And she wasn't really sure if anything that wasn't a pokemon could even become a ghost. So she was a bit worried for herself. Not too much, though. She'd had a long life. But there were already so many ghosts... They didn't really need anymore ghosts of any kind. So maybe while she was at home, Anita would have to consult her Team Rocket handbook to see if saving the world went against club policy.

Not even the ghosts were clear on that question. And they weren't entirely sure about whether or not they wanted significantly more company, either. Several telepathic arguments were being held.

Jim was not aware of the ghosts but some of his own pokemon were telepathically eavesdropping, so he might learn about it later. At the moment, though - he didn't need the help. There was something about being too tired to think very hard and then drinking coffee that seemed to make his brain reach conclusions more quickly. His mind reacted as if hoping that he would be able to fall asleep, once the subject was made clear. So now Jim was thinking. _Adam took the Vulpersian. The sandwag worked with the Vulpersian. Why all the interest in this animal? I wonder if Anita came here to try and kidnap the..._

Professor Dayoff had left without even drinking her coffee. She hadn't even bothered to say that Team Rocket was blasting off again. That was unlike her. Hrm.

Jim knew where she lived, though. He knew where all the League employees in the Kanto region lived. He'd made a point of getting to know. Jim was responsible for the Kanto region. So he certainly knew where Anita lived. And as long as his own pokemon weren't too grumpy... He could probably even beat her there. Professor Dayoff was actually his nearest neighbor, her home was just a couple miles down the road.

Hrm.

Jim stood. He was tired but sleep would have to wait. He needed to get changed, he wasn't about to go out in a robe and pajamas. And while he was busy getting ready to depart... He had another internal struggle.

Maybe he wouldn't beat Anita to her own house. There was something here that Jim should perhaps take care of first.

He had been assigned to protect the Vulpersian. If Jim took the creature with him then he could watch out for it personally. But if he left Vulpersian here, at home then he'd only need a couple of battle partners to come with him. The rest of the collection could stay here. So Vulpersian might in fact be safer, left behind. There would be more pokemon here to help defend... But Vulpersian wasn't his pokemon, Jim had to keep reminding himself. It wasn't maybe nice, in the long-term, to let the poor creature get accustomed to living in a mansion. This was a temporary arrangement. This was not home, for Vulpersian. If the League decided to let the creature live then Vulpersian would probably get sent back to the meadows of the Testing Facility. But if this animal was connected to so much trouble, if so many were after it... then... The League would probably order for Vulpersian to be destroyed.

The League had to be responsible. If the species were mass produced... People were bound to get greedy. People would want to own and train the firefox for all the wrong reasons. The animal might not be treated well. There was no guarantee that anyone would care about the animal itself. And... if Vulpersian went into mass production... of course it would be popular. So... Would all the other approved pokemon suddenly get ignored? Would it be unfair to the other genetic companies, who didn't make animals that could summon piles of money? What would the effects be, on everything? Prices. Crime rates. If suddenly more people had a lot more money, just because they were trainers... That wasn't fair, was it? No. Not to the animals. Not to the businesses. Not to the people who weren't pokemon trainers.

Jim was fond of the firefox but he had to admit that the whole ability to summon money from nowhere - it was a curse. A golden curse. Since ideas traveled... There were stories, even in the pokemon world, about a goose that could lay golden eggs and a king with a golden touch. Those were just stories that got taught to most children at some point. Jim was aware of them, since he sometimes visited schools and read to kids. He knew as well that those particular stories did not have happy endings.

Perhaps the people who had designed Vulpersian hadn't been paying attention to the stories. Perhaps even those people had cared more about the money than the animal. In light of the greed...

Jim knew that he couldn't sincerely recommend for Vulpersian to be an approved species.

And he knew exactly how the League erased pokemon from existence.

He didn't have to turn Vulpersian in. Jim was tempted to let the animal loose in the wild but that had never been a good idea, in the past. And any creature that could leave a trail of coins... The firefox would be found and recaptured and erased from existence anyway. So there was no point in pretending that the release option would work and no denying that it would probably be also bad for the environment, to just turn Vulpersian loose.

So all that was maybe left... Was for Jim to ask his own pokemon to do something more dignified and natural than merely erase the creature from existence. Jim was the number one League Champion. While he understood that the current official procedure was very clean and effective... Jim didn't agree with the official procedure, on basic principle. So he had come up with an alternative method and had done all the paperwork and such to make it legal, if he got permission. And Jim truly hated to even order this but... He had given the order, before. And he knew that his pokemon could take this order, as well. They'd been trained.

Jim sighed. Of all the parts of his job that he loved... This was the one part that he hated. Still. He only went along with it because... This way - his way - did beat the official procedure. Jim sincerely believed that. If he did things his way... He would be able to explain and apologize. He would be able to let the creature attack and his pokemon would make sure that it was a balanced battle with a mercifully swift ending. The official method offered none of this.

He was a nice guy. A geeky friendly relaxed nice guy. But he was also League Champion number one. The Collector. So when it came down to a choice between the welfare of the many or the welfare of one... Jim had always sided with the many. Vulpersian had to go.

All that Jim needed was permission from the League.

But the phone was ringing so much... Jim doubted that he would be able to place any calls of his own, much less get through to enough people to have them cast an official vote. So perhaps until things settled down, Vulpersian was safe. Jim was happy for the creature but also worried - what if it was part of the larger problem? Who else might target...?

Anita had closed the front door behind her when exiting but she had not locked it. So she was able to come back inside. Panting. Hair mussed. Still trailing mud and feathers. Looking rather panicked. Her pokemon came inside with her this time. Wheebok was hissing numerous creative phrases and even Squirtantler seemed miffed.

"...uh..." Jim watched as Anita rapidly - and with limited success - tried to barricade the front door by moving furniture larger than herself. "Did you just run all the way...?"

The furniture started levitating and barricading the door, apparently on its own.

Anita let the ghosts take over and patted her spacesuit, as if trying to remember whether the outfit had pockets. It did. She eventually found the one she needed, unzipped the pocket and took out a pair of very dark sunglasses.

"...what is...?" Jim went to a window and peered outside. There was a lot of movement out there.

"Cover your eyes." said Anita. She leaped into the air a few times and eventually got hold of Wheebok. She used the highly disgruntled balloon snake as a lasso and got Squirtantlers attention. She found a chair, dragged the chair to a window, stood on the chair and put on the very dark sunglasses. Yes, she was now wearing dark sunglasses at night. Over her regular glasses, no less. Anita pulled Squirtantlers face close to her own, pointed out the window and gave an order.

"MINDWIPE! NOW!" ordered Anita.

Squirtantler had DNA from Squirtle, the brawling squirrel-turtle water type but also - and perhaps more notably - from Stantler. The original reindeer pokemon had been considered a normal type and yet it had also been known to be capable of inducing hallucinations. Stantler had been famous for never being seen alone because even when one of the animals was alone, it projected the idea that it was in a herd. There was lore claiming that Stantler might have even had the natural ability to disrupt time and space with its antlers. Ancient cultures had prized the horns and used them in medicine.

And genetic science had decided to try and improve on that. Hence Squirtantler had been made part moose which meant that it had bigger antlers. Which meant that it could create more potent distortions and cast them over a wider range.

Squirtantlers bright red nose was not just decoration. As the antlers gathered the energy, the shiny red nose lit up. There was a high-pitched humming sound and several dazzling flashes, as if a rotating strobe light had been switched on and then off. This was just one of the ways that Squirtantler could confuse opponents.

"That should slow them..." Anita lifted the dark sunglasses and peered outside. She nearly fell off the chair at what she saw. "AAH! THEY'RE STILL ADVANCING?!"

Jim lowered his arms and looked outside again from his own window. "I've never seen so many people wearing sunglasses at night." He remarked dryly. "Who are...?"

The mansion took a direct hit.

"...nevermind. Defense first. Questions later." Jim hardly had to turn around. His pokemon were crowding the foyer and hanging on the stair rails. "Well, do you guys want to be homeless or what?"

The collection did not want to be homeless.

**ooxoo**

**M**r. Antoine Frankly was on a train. This train was going the right direction. Back towards Ketchum Town. Back home. Back towards not being a fugitive.

But it was still a long ride through the mountains, no matter which direction you went. And there still wasn't very good phone reception. And it was dark so there wasn't much to see of the landscape beyond the windows. And...this train...seemed empty. There were passengers in the other cars but they were sitting down, they were quiet and they were few and far between. No bands. No mobile rock concert. No crowds. He even had a passenger car to himself.

Antoine was feeling a lot less paranoid. He hadn't been arrested. He hadn't been eaten by a dragon. He was on his way back to being normal. Tomorrow, he could go in to work and perhaps it would be as if nothing had happened. He would look back on today and shake his head in disbelief. He might eventually laugh about it. How strange it had all been. How quickly his day had been turned upsidedown. How close he'd come to breaking all kinds of laws. He must have been out of his senses.

The sandwag...

All that he had to do was drop the sandwag off at Professor Dayoffs house. That would be a decent bike ride and it was a shame - though not a surprise, she rarely answered her phone - that Antoine hadn't been able to talk to her and give her some warning but then again, maybe it was just as well. Why merely ask for her advice? He didn't want to be associated with this animal, Antoine told himself. Sandwag wasn't even an approved species. Professor Dayoff was the expert at defying the League - why not let her do it? She'd be fine. Professor Dayoff was the best investigative League Historian. She could deal with the sandwag and track down whomever had made it. If she couldn't then maybe no one could. So he'd just leave the animal at her house and...

For better or worse, Antoine was a nice guy.

The pokeball had been still for... Well. Since before he'd gotten on this train. Which was maybe only a couple hours. It felt like so much longer. He'd nearly become an outlaw. Antoine was amazed to realize just how frightened he'd been. He felt calmer now but the fear was taking its time in wearing off.

Deep down, Antoine felt a touch worried. He was a little surprised at how deeply worried. He also felt as if maybe he should say goodbye. Just because the animal was clueless and had no manners, that didn't mean that he should have no manners as well. He ought to set a good example. Maybe the animal could learn from his example. But... What if the sandwag attacked? Or tried to escape? Antoines pokemon classes had warned that the animals sometimes took awhile to adjust to the pokeballs. They didn't always react well, the first time they were consciously re-released and...

And it was occurring to Antoine, as well... That even though he was a citizen of the pokemon world and even though he was an Apprentice League Historian... Even though he was in love with a Gym Leader... He dealt a lot more with the people and the paperwork, than the animals.

He'd had no idea... Well... Some idea. But... The reading, the mandatory classes, the listening to people and observing other trainers... All of these things had been helpful and informative but...

The sandwag annoyed him. Despite this, Antoine cared about the creature a bit now. He sort of felt responsible for it. He really did.

He honestly hadn't expected that at all.

For the pokemon that he would have picked and ordered and all the rest... The pokemon that he was supposed to have ordered, before all this happened... Yes. Antoine had expected to feel... at least approval and friendship... for something that he'd carefully selected out of a magazine. For something that couldn't speak to him in a language that he would understand. Not unless he spent some extra money to have it customized with language skills. But he'd never expected to even meet this sandwag. He hadn't known what a sandwag was, yesterday. It hadn't existed to him, yesterday. How could Antoine have expected to have felt such a connection with the creature? He couldn't have. He hadn't.

Except... Antoine hadn't left the sandwag in the road to die, either. And he could have. There were plenty of other people in the world who would have. Antoine had chosen not to, though. So he must have felt sort of responsible for the creature even before it had ever spoken to him and...

Antoine kind of hated himself for feeling responsible for the sandwag - but not too much. Was this what it really felt like, to be a pokemon trainer? It was...not completely horrible...to feel as if he could perhaps make a difference to something. To feel needed. Antoine had done his best to educate the sandwag. It was kind of cool, to think that maybe he'd helped the poor animal get a clue in some small way. It was...annoying but nice...to have an animal that he could talk with... Even if the animal talked back and didn't always have good manners. And could probably rip his arm off on a whim.

Come to think of it, good riddence. Right.

But...even that kind of a monster...did deserve a goodbye.

Antoine seriously considered just grumbling goodbye to the pokeball. Without releasing the monster. Without even taking the pokeball out of his pocket. It had been a long and emotionally draining day. However the end was in sight, he thought, which was a major relief. And he was going to be okay, Antoine finally felt pretty sure about that. And the train car...was empty. No other passengers were in here. So the animal wouldn't be able to try to steal any footwear. And if the animal wanted to escape... Well. It was a train in the mountains at night. Outside it was cold and dark and steep and... Good riddence. Maybe he should just let the animal escape. Maybe it wouldn't even survive escaping. At least then it wouldn't hurt anyone, perhaps.

_Might as well get this over with._ Antoine aimed the beam of light so that hopefully, the creature would appear as far away from him as possible. On the floor. He was prepared to use his bicycle as a shield or a weapon, if needed. He was more than half tempted to give the creature a short farewell lecture on how irritating it had been. He was already picking out the words...

And then he saw what materialized.

And then he wondered if there was a PokeCenter on the train.

He knew there wasn't.

Antoine was kneeling beside the badly mauled spikey lump before he even fully realized what he was doing. He was suddenly not so tired. Antoine checked for a pulse and eventually found one. He was relieved. He was surprised that he was relieved. He stared down at the creature again. It had the ragged look of something... that had done everything in its own power... to escape from a place... that didn't even have exits. It had the look of a creature who had fainted or fallen into something worse than a faint or collapsed from exhaustion. And possibly just in time to avoid being a very bloody mess.

He found two first aid kits, one on each end of the train car and emptied them. Fortunately there wasn't much blood. There were just so many thin red lines, scratches and bruises... From a distance, the creature might have looked a bit purple. Or badly colored in. Or like it had played with an industrial paper shredder.

To think... It had done this to itself?! Just to...

Antoine shook his head. He didn't even know what to feel right away. Angry? Who at? Himself, probably. For not checking sooner. He could have checked sooner. He hated to have THAT on his conscious. But he honestly hadn't known and... Why hadn't the animal known, about pokeballs? It was a pokemon! Even an unapproved illegal pokemon, it should have known! All the scratches... Had the sandwag been sliced by contact with the pokeball seal? Repeatedly? Why hadn't it given up?! And if the outside of the animal was in such ragged shape now... Antoine wondered how many internal injuries there were. He immediately wished that he hadn't wondered that. The sandwag didn't look... well... but Antoine wasn't a medical expert. He didn't know what he was looking for. He didn't think that he really wanted to know what he was looking for. Broken bones? Corrupted vital organs? He didn't even want to imagine.

And yet while the pulse was faint... The intensity of the energy that this animal gave off... Antoine was half expecting it to burst into flames.

He took the water bottle off his bicycle and a fire extinguisher from under the train seats and was prepared to douse any such flames. He poured some water on the creatures nose. He felt the animals head for a temperature, found one of those too and tried to remember if forcing a train window open would set off any alarms. Maybe the cold air would do some good... Or maybe the creature needed to be kept warm? Which was the correct approach? Antoine was too panicked to remember and he wasn't even sure that he'd ever known. So he risked the alarms and forced a window open, just a little and...

Then he caught himself. _WHY am I trying to SAVE this creature AGAIN?!_ Antoine sighed. He knew the answer. He couldn't NOT save it. The animal was annoying and...everything else...but... Antoine just didn't have it in him, to sit around watching things die. He wondered if THAT was how a trainer was supposed to feel. He stopped for a few unsteady heartbeats and really really wondered about it. He wasn't actually certain. But this time, Antoine felt even more responsible for the creature. Because he also felt guilty. And then he was...incredibly surprised...to feel guilty.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Antoine was rationalizing aloud. Or maybe he was half hoping for the sandwag to sit up and argue with him. It didn't. "All the trainers use pokeballs! They've been using pokeballs for more than a hundred years! They might have even used hollowed out acorns back before pokeballs were invented! And... and... it can't have been...that bad..."

Stating his fragmented case to a unresponsive mauled spikey lump did NOT make Antoine feel ANY better.

But the nearest PokeCenter... Was in Ketchum Town. The next stop. And they weren't there yet.

Antoine took several deep breaths and calmed down just enough... not very much... But just enough... To remember that he had once worked for Theas family. On their family farm. What sort of work? All kinds. He'd stood guard. He'd repaired buildings. He'd put up buildings. He'd moved things from one building to another. He'd dug holes and helped put up fences. He'd painted fences and buildings and helped to irrigate the plants and... There was a long list of odd jobs and most of them had involved some level of construction skills. Now that Antoine thought about it... The closest that he'd gotten to working with the animals on the farm had been sometimes helping to feed them or clean up after them or chasing them back into their pens. He'd never actually trusted the animals much. Antoine wasn't sure why. Oh. Wait. Yea. That's why. Thea. She was good with animals. Her family, they all were. So they had done all the work relating to their own animals. And they hadn't needed Antoines help. And that had been fine by him because Antoine had always sort of felt as if the animals at the farm knew that he wasn't really in charge.

He glanced at the lump. He wondered who had sent _it _the memo.

But even though he'd never actually worked much around the animals... He HAD watched Thea and her family - and mostly just Thea, when she was around - work with the animals on her farm. And even in the Gym, these days... Thea had a certain tone of voice, sometimes. She had a certain way of making her pokemon listen.

Antoine wondered, for just a half second, what Thea would do. And then he reminded himself that Thea had a lifetime of practice. He had only worked on the farm part-time. She had lived there. He did not have much skill, for dealing with animals. He didn't even interact that much with the pokemon that were always around the Museum - the ones that belonged to the Professors.

Professor Carmen Yado had a Parabatang, the metallic insect. It had six big spider legs and two lobster-ish claws and even though it looked very much like a ladybug from the back sometimes and did have a set of beetle wings... The shiny red shell was in truth a metallic mushroom. Professor G. Yadont had a small skeletal creature that blended in around the fossils. Antoine hadn't seen that one very much. It was very shy. Antoine couldn't even remember its full species name. It was part Cubone and something else... He'd think of it, eventually. And then there was Professor D. Notatree. He had a weird sense of humor. Of all the pokemon that lurked around the League Museum, the tree bothered Antoine the most. Why linger on that? The League had settled the lawsuits.

On second thought, it was no wonder that he'd avoided them all.

Antoine spent a few moments reconsidering his whole career. He didn't have to become an outlaw. He didn't feel like he was a fugitive anymore. But being a trainer... Or any job that required him to become a trainer... Maybe it wasn't such a good move for him. He'd never gotten along that great with animals. Maybe he needed to think of something else. Maybe he ought to even call in and take a day off, to really give it some thought.

This blue lump... Antoine hardly knew what to do for the sandwag. And... Yes, he'd had classes and he'd been a good student. He had passed the trainer classes with high marks but those classes... Those classes had never covered a situation like this. Antoine was suddenly wondering how many other situations they had left out. He hated having a good imagination. What if this had been his real pokemon? What if this animal had been the one that he'd ordered? Would he have known what to do for it?

"It's bad enough to feel responsible for you, of all creatures." Antoine complained. He took off his coat and hesitated. His favorite coat...

Even if it had nearly gotten him killed on multiple occasions in the past just by being long enough to tangle in the wheels of his bicycle... The coat had been a gift from Theas family. It had made him feel appreciated and important. Antoine frowned and gently wrapped it around the blue lump anyway.

Antoine still loved Thea. He definitely did love Thea. He admired and respected his childhood friend. Antoine was just abruptly thinking that if pokemon trainers had to go through all this... Then maybe Thea would always be busy. Maybe she could never really notice him in the same way. Antoine shuddered. He was feeling empty, even with coat on these days. The gift didn't comfort him as much as it had once done. And with all the recent experiences... Antoine wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore, not even about himself. He did love Thea. But he couldn't think about being in love with her so much right now.

If he was seriously going to contemplate changing jobs... That was a big change. There were a lot of other things to think about. Would Thea want anything to do with him while he was unemployed and trying to figure out what he should do with himself? Would the League prevent him from finding work at any of their other facilities, if he quit the museum? What if he had to move to get another job? And what would being unemployed do to his studies? Antoine was on his way to being a professor, academically. Was it too late to turn back? Was it wise, to change his mind? He'd been so sure that being a professor would be the right career for him but now... And quitting... Having no income would change what he could afford. Perhaps he would never be able to afford taking Thea out on a date. In his own mind, Antoine was skeptical about the odds. Because he loved her so much... She deserved the best of everything... And even trying to provide that would be expensive. And yet he loved her so much... He couldn't imagine asking her to settle for anything less.

Antoine wanted Thea to have the best. He was depressed to realize that 'the best' maybe didn't mean him.

But those types of thoughts were mostly flitting in and out of the background of his mind. Antoine had never been much of an optimist when it came to his own life and could therefore have such thoughts without dwelling on them. Right now, what was at the front of his mind was that Antoine just didn't want the blue animal to get sick. It had enough other problems without catching a cold as well. The sandwag had been varying degrees of mauled for as long as Antoine had known it. Maybe longer. Maybe that was why the poor creature didn't have too many brains left.

Someone had to feel responsible for the creature. Clearly, its creators hadn't.

"You make it." Antoine told the lump wrapped in his coat. Maybe it was time for a new coat. Then he added. " I will get you two pairs of new shoes, if you make it. If I can afford them."

No response.

There was still a pulse. Antoine wished that reassured him.

He severely doubted that it would be safe to pick the creature up. Everyone had always told him not to pick the animals up. Extra especially not when they were hurt. And... and...

And... He had to pick the creature up, Antoine realized. Not right away. Not to try and keep it warm and not for any sentimental reasons but... Merely because... Even though pokeballs were normal, completely... Antoine was absolutely not inclined to put the sandwag into a pokeball ever again. And so when the train arrived in Ketchum Town... Then Antoine was going to have to carry the sandwag to the PokeCenter. Even though he knew better. Even though everything that he'd read and heard and watched, while preparing to become a pokemon trainer, had said not to do that. Even though the police and the League and the PokeCenter itself could each choose to punish any trainer who dared to actually transport an injured pokemon in their arms.

To carry an injured animal... Yes, it might make the injuries worse but... If the pokeball was the reason for the injuries... What else could he do? Antoine just couldn't put the animal back in a pokeball. If the sandwag woke up inside the pokeball, it would probably make its own injuries worse. If the sandwag woke up at all, Antoine wanted to see that happen.

How should he carry the sandwag? Well. The blue animal had quills sticking out if its back. Thus picking the sandwag up so that it was facing him, as if in a held-out-at-arms-length hug, might be less lethal than most other options. Although...

Antoine looked at the creature more critically and tried to guess how much it weighed. He relived the idea that it might rip his arm off. Maybe if he carried the sandwag in a sling... Antoine looked at the doors on either end of the passenger car and wondered if he should go through one of them, to see if anyone there might be able to help. However Antoine didn't currently feel like leaving the creatures side OR trying to explain why it was so mauled to anyone else. He began to feel paranoid again. What if those people, the other passengers on the train... Would they know that sandwag was an illegal species? What if...?

Then Antoines speeding trains of thought and worry and swirling emotion got a sharp interruption. Because right at that moment, someone derailed the actual physical train.

And then there was an explosion.

**ooxoo**

**D**ragon Lady had seen something extremely cute. She had fainted. At the Testing Facility. She was a League employee. She was League Champion number three - so her phone was ringing. And the League scientists on duty had been advised to help her recover, so they were taking aim with water pistols. Because they were still too frightened of her to get close. They thought she had fainted from being angry. They were afraid that if they got close to her, she might beat them up. Even unconscious, they believed she might find a way.

The pokemon were not so frightened of the fainted young lady. And none of these pokemon could tell the difference between a water pistol and a regular gun. So when Mawsolaeronix saw the League scientists taking aim at its trainer, Mawsolaeronix swatted them all away. In one swoop. With its tail. And underneath the fur, Mawsolaeronix was a rock type.

Pikadatuffree was small and cute and ridiculously dangerous. But if Pikadatuffree wiggled its tail then it just caused people to faint from sheer cuteness overload. If a large near-dragon wiggled its tail... Then Tail Whip suddenly had a whole new meaning. If Pikadatuffree tried to roar or bite someone, the opponent might not die. Unless they died laughing. However if Mawsolaeronix did either of those things, death could become an option.

Echidna leaned down and nudged at the fainted girl with a coiled tail, sounding irritated. "What is that ringing noise?"

Animals living in the meadows had no reason to understand phones. They saw the humans use technology but that was just the humans. The animals learned about pokeballs but not much technology beyond that. So phones - they had no idea, really. When humans were using a phone... These animals, especially, they didn't get it. Pikadatuffree had not been out of prison for long but had decided that humans seemed to like arguing with themselves in public and was too polite to remark on such strange behavior. Mawsolaeronix had a trainer and lived around people but had to squint to even see that there was a ...tiny little rectangular thing... Was it a rock? Was it edible?

Echidna lived in an icy shroud and had never really noticed phones before but out in the meadows... Of all the pokemon in residence, Echidna was the closest thing to human.

An oversized poison-tipped claw found a button. Several buttons were pressed. Including the right one.

The phone lit up and stopped ringing.

Dragon Lady was responsible for the Johto region. Jim was responsible for the Kanto region. If a train was derailed near the border that their regions shared, they both got called.

And when the person responsible for a whole region needed to travel - even just for a few errands - then someone else got put in charge.

"-no need to worry." said someone else, phoning from the Johto region. Speaking in the anxious tones of a person who was trying very hard not to sound anxious. "Well. Er. Maybe some need...but... Uhm. Apparently one of the passengers was told that he was short. He blew up a train car. We've managed to subdue him. He kept screaming that he was something called an alchemist... What does that mean? But he seemed to have magical powers. So we'll have to get someone to come over to do some experiments and figure out if he's actually one of the new pokemon that's been showing up in the wild. Hey, you're at the Testing Facility - aren't you? Would anyone there be able to...? Maybe ask around. Anyway. The actual train being derailed... We aren't sure what caused that. We'll have to wait until morning to do an inspection of the site. A few people were hurt but Nurse Joy certainly...arrived on the scene...almost before we'd even called for help. Er. Do you know, that short guy we arrested... Come to think of it... He had a robotic arm and leg. Maybe he's a robot, too. Did they ever make a guy robot nurse for the PokeCenters? Hrm. I'll have to investigate. If nothing else, perhaps he can be reprogrammed. We'll see. But yea, wanted you to hear all this from me first. Don't worry about a thing! Just...call me, okay? And come back. Soon. I'm honored to be your second-in-command but you know that I never wanted this job. Right? Bye!"

The caller hung up.

The pokemon stared down at the rectangle, which was now emitting a dial tone.

Mawsolaeronix wonders how this tiny rectangle can have a voice that... Mawsolaeronix knew that voice! That person was a friend! And the dial tone sounded kind of like a pokemon attack and... The large not-technically-a-dragon decides to take the phone apart, in an attempt to free the person and save them.

The phone never had a chance. But it also did not contain any people.

Mawsolaeronix does not understand and decides that the person must now be trapped somewhere else, possibly in terrible danger.

Pikadatuffree has reached the same basic conclusion. And despite the fact that Pikadatuffree had playfully beaten down the near-dragon earlier, the cute little animal seems to regard nearly everything as a potential friend. Or relative. "Mom, we have to help!"

"... NO." Echidna does not think anyone needs her help. Especially not a near-dragon or an adorable dangerous monster. And she likes living in the meadows, anyway. And... Shouldn't the parent be the one in charge? "Now GO TO YOUR ROOMS!" Echidna hears herself saying. She truly hadn't ever expected to hear herself say that.

Mawsolaeronix doesn't live here and probably wouldn't fit inside most buildings, anyway. So the almost-a-dragon looks confused.

Pikadatuffree looks cute and apologetic and tilts its head towards the smoking crater where the prison used to be. "But... I blew up my room."

Echidna scowls.

"Can we go help, Mom?" Pikadatuffree does the super-adorable not-even-puppies-would-be-able-to-resist-this eyes. "Pwwwweeease?"

Mawsolaeronix nearly faints from sheer cuteness overload, even with the cute little animal inside a shroud.

The adorable little animal is seated on Echidnas head and is therefore not currently visible to her but Echidna felt a near tangible level of cuteness take shape within the shroud. "...FINE." Echidna shriek-roared, apparently channeling motherhood. "But CLEAN UP THIS MESS."

Mawsolaeronix looks at the landscape. Pikadatuffree blinks.

The meadows of the testing facility are bit worse for wear due to all the recent battles here but really, there is nothing in sight that could be accurately called a mess.

Echidna doesn't seem able to stop herself and improvises. "Well at LEAST pick up the humans! You shouldn't just leave humans lying around!"

Mawsolaeronix carefully picks up the Dragon Lady with two talons, each of which is much larger than the human. Pikadatuffree shrugs cutely and, without leaving the Echidnas head, zaps the swatted League scientists back into consciousness.

"Now can we go, Mom?"

"All right, all right..." Echidna grumbles and manages to claw/slither/climb aboard the almost-a-dragon. Echidna grabs hold of a sickle-shaped antler for support. Which means that now, Echidna has a small adorable creature perched on her head and is also seated just behind the massive head of another creature. "...where are we going, anyway?"

Mawsolaeronix has the wingspan of an Aerodactyl. So the near-dragon beats a pair of massive stone wings and rises into the night sky. Dragon Lady finally starts to recover consciousness but promptly loses it again, after seeing something extremely cute.

**ooxoo**

**W**elcome to the Hotel California.

But the sign that said that was actually posted outside an apartment building. Perhaps it had been a hotel in the past and the owners hadn't ever gotten around to updating the sign. No one in the area was entirely certain what California meant. It sounded nice, though. The people who lived in these apartments were always saying that it was such a lovely place and they would never leave.

Adam M. Shadow knew nothing about choosing a place live. He wasn't sure where he'd ever lived before. He had the feeling that he'd probably never owned his own home or anything. He was sort of glad about that. There was just a lot of...stuff...that went into owning a home. If you owned a home then you had to worry about the plumbing and the foundation and keeping the front yard clean and picking out household appliances and... Just things like that. Adam was not a highly ranked League Champion. However he did have enough of an income that he could have bought his own home. But there were so many decisions and... Adam had never been a fan of shopping. He generally cared more about his shoes than where he lived. Someone had recommended this apartment building. Someone had known the landlord. The rent was reasonable, living by the rules was okay and the apartment itself had come furnished.

So he hadn't needed to pick out furniture or try to understand interior decorating. And if anything inside the apartment broke, he just called the landlord and tried to explain why it was broken and usually helped pay for a replacement. The landlord put up with all this because Adam was a good renter to have. He dressed like the lead guitarist in a goth-punk rock band and was one of the few people in the world allowed to own a car but... Adam was clean and quiet, even when he was around - and he wasn't always around. Plus he sometimes forgot that he'd already paid the months rent, so...

The only consistant hassle with Adam, as far as the landlord was concerned, was the sheer amount of fanmail that Adam got.

But no one would know that, from visiting the apartment where he lived.

Fanmail... Was confusing. How did these people know him? Who were they? Why did they have such strong feelings about him? How had they gotten the address? These were just a few of the questions that had crossed Adams mind. He didn't know the answers. He'd tried to read some of his fanmail once and then... Well. First, it had occurred to him that living weapons probably did not need fanclubs.

Second, and far more importantly, it had consciously occurred to him that he could read.

Adam M. Shadow appreciated that he didn't know a great deal about his own life. He couldn't remember much about himself or what he'd done. But... If he was able to read... Then some part of his brain... Must be intact.

Damaged as his mind was, it was surprising how much he did know. He had caught on to being a Champion very quickly. He understood rules. Adam didn't always agree with rules or laws but he understood them. He felt comfortable working in a place where he wasn't in charge. He felt even more comfortable working in a place where he could be competitive. A place where there was a complex system of rankings. Adam had avoided shopping for furniture and household appliances but did know how to use those kinds of objects. He knew the basics of taking care of himself. He had never forgotten that breathing was sort of vital. There were all kinds of little taken-for-granted things that had been there all along but now that nobody was trying to kill him virtually everyday...

Had someone been trying to to kill him everyday?

Adam didn't know. But living by himself had gradually forced him to start waking up to his own subconscious mind. He understood money - what it was, how to use it and how to earn it without getting in trouble. He understood technology. He knew how to play card games. He could speak human languages.

Wait. He was human. Even though Adam suspected that maybe he hadn't always been human... He also suspected that he had probably been raised by humans, even if he didn't remember them. So... Why was he surprised by being able to speak human languages? He could read and write in human languages, too. Why was it surprising?

Adam wasn't sure.

Still. As grateful as he was for all that the fanmail had inadvertantly taught him about himself... Adam still felt that getting so many letters from total strangers was creepy. When fans claimed that they loved him and wrote about what they'd love to do with him... Adam was a living weapon. He wasn't overly interested in the subject of love and he had learned - and remembered, somehow - to recognize when others were trying to control him. All the flattery and compliments were a thin disguise. It had seemed like the fans wanted to control him. Even the ones with nice things to say and who claimed to have great respect, they were always making suggestions or requests. The few letters that he had read... Each fan had seemed to think that only they knew what was best for him.

Adam just did not understand this. Social skills were not his best talent but... Was trying to control someone really a sign of respect and affection? He didn't know for sure but currently doubted it. Living weapons probably did have to get orders from somewhere but... That was why he was in the League. He could take orders, from the League. It was just business, with the League. His fans? No. Adam didn't know any of these people. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know any of these people. He was learning a lot by living on his own. Why compromise that? So instead of opening the fanmail anymore, Adam just fed it to his pokemon. Which was why nobody visiting the apartment would have been able to see just how much fanmail he got.

The tall leafy fern did not eat fanmail. The potted plant, Sunferna, mostly survived on sunlight and music. The other two members of his team... They could eat anything. Adam had chosen them for that reason. Even if their styles had not worked with Sunferna, he would have chosen them. To eat the fanmail.

Even a visitor ignorant of the amount of mail that Adam recieved might have noticed that these two monsters were plump and happy.

What with currently being human, Adam was not opposed to sleeping. Granted - living weapons were always prepared to fight but it hadn't been their decision to be that way. And it would probably be better for everyone, if serious fighting could be avoided. But when something needed to be done...

Adam had been given League Orders to get some sleep. Jim might have been half-joking when he made the suggestion but Adam didn't understand the joke.

He sort of wished that he could sleep.

Although... He also had the feeling that he'd probably already spent far more than half of his life asleep. And he wasn't certain of how long that was but... What it came down to was that Adam M. Shadow wasn't really tired. He was restless and grumpy and felt that time was moving too slowly.

The world seemed full of reasons to stay awake, right now. There were all kinds of messages coming in from all over the planet. Nobody in the League seemed to understand why so many strange things were happening all at once. Had some Team Shadow members escaped from prison, were they causing mass confusion in order to get revenge for being shut down? Were other criminal organizations involved? Had any of these criminals built the sandwag? Had anyone seen that animal recently? Adam still wanted to track the sandwag down and give it a kicking, for stealing his shoes. Nevermind that his shoes had already been returned to him. As far as Adam was concerned, the creature had committed a crime. It needed a punishment.

Also the creature annoyed him. Both directly and indirectly.

The sandwag had stolen his shoes but it had been moving quickly. Adam had only just barely glimpsed it as a blur. But he'd also seen the still photos and streaming videocasts of the strange new animal and... Didn't have any idea why he felt as if he should recognize the creature. After a while, there had been a vague domino effect inside his head of other things that Adam felt like he should maybe recall... And he didn't. Not clearly. Not in any way that made sense to him.

How did he know that weird blue creature? What was he supposed to remember about it? What else was it reminding him of?

Adam just felt as if there was _something_ to be learned here. And maybe it was something important. It had better be important, if he was going to go to the trouble of tracking this creature down. He still wasn't sure if he ought to attempt to speak with it. What if the animal didn't talk? The scientists at the Testing Facility had reported that the sandwag didn't make much noise. Maybe it wouldn't be able to communicate. If it had been built by criminals then it probably didn't have the ability to communicate. But maybe...just seeing it again...would help.

With so many other messages coming in, it was hard to keep track of the reports of where the sandwag had last been seen. But...for better or worse... Adam had a fanclub. He didn't know who all these people were or why they claimed to love him so much - but he did know that he could probably ask them for anything. So all that he had to decide... Was if he wanted to risk asking.

No. He didn't.

He was not prepared to trust his fans.

There was, however, someone else. League Champion number five. Adam had met her, he wasn't sure how long ago. She'd come to the Kanto region for an official meeting. The top Champions got together and compared notes, once in a while. They could have used phones or computers but they gathered in person, instead. Something about better security and promoting teamwork. Yet Champion number five... She had snuck out of the meetings. She had been raiding the fridge of an employee lounge. In a place where she hadn't worked. Which had ticked off the actual employees. So she had eluded them as well and... Adam wouldn't have crossed paths with her, otherwise. The lady... Champion five hadn't been overly polite or friendly. She was kind of brazen and standoffish, really. But... Once she had been reassured that Adam was not just there to get her in trouble or take the food away... They'd talked for a while. And during the conversation, she had casually picked his pockets.

Adam M. Shadow wasn't quite sure why but that had significantly improved his opinion of her.

League Champion five... She had many nicknames but most of those couldn't be repeated in mixed company and even her actual last name sounded like a nickname. The lady smirked or scowled when asked about it but she had never spoken much about her own history - not to him, at least. And Adam didn't feel entitled to ask, either. What right did he have to demand answers about anyone elses past? He didn't even have answers about his own past. Not that he could remember. So Adam generally just thought of the lady by her rank. Champion five... She had said that he could just call her by her first name - but Adam had almost no memory for names, at the moment. He only remembered Jim because Jims name and image were widely distributed on League merchandise. Beyond that... If a person wasn't wearing a nametag then Adam didn't know what to call them. And Champion five wasn't the sort to repeat introductions.

He had defeated her at arm wrestling in order to reclaim his wallet. She had complained and then gotten even by destroying him at an impromptu game of poker. Adam was fairly certain that she had cheated - but she had cheated with such skill that he had gone along with it. Besides, during the card game Champion five had given him some pointers on being a trainer. She had witnessed some of his Gym Challenges since then and had never seemed to mind providing further advice. Often by taunting him and pointing out his mistakes, regardless of whether or not he'd asked for the input. And despite the fact that she tended to seem lazy to anyone who worked around her... The lady was good at what she did.

Champion five worked... or at least hung out and avoided all forms of work that didn't interest her... at the League Headquarters. Which was far away. But Adam didn't need to go visit, he just needed someone to call.

If anyone could explain the current state of the world, maybe it would be her. Despite her habit of skipping meetings, the lady tended to be informed of current events. And... League Champion number five... Even though he hadn't seen her all that much... Adam had immediately felt comfortable around her. She had a bad temper and plenty of bad habits and wasn't all that friendly but... Adam didn't know what a comparable experience was. It wasn't something that happened to him a lot. Most of his fans called him Mister Mysterious. League Champion number five called him Adam and had eventually decided to treat him like a little brother - which meant that sometimes she was annoyed with him for reasons that made no sense but usually, she didn't mind hearing from and nagging at him. He barely knew the lady but she had his respect. The overall way she behaved... Champion five... The lady reminded Adam of someone.

Maybe it was him?

It was easier to trust someone, when they reminded you of yourself.

Had he ever had a sibling? Adam M. Shadow didn't know. He knew that Champion five was almost certainly not really related to him but... Maybe he should check into that... Although he wasn't sure how to even begin such a search. He didn't have enough answers about himself to search for anything that might be a relative.

Adam didn't remember much about his own history - but he did know how to use a phone. And the phone was able to remember phone numbers, so he didn't have to. But... The phone was still ringing... And Champion five worked at League Headquarters... And she was higher ranked so she would probably have even more incoming calls than he did and... And she didn't always answer her phone, anyway. So... Even if Adam managed to place a call, he would probably just get a busy signal or an answering machine.

Much as he respected Champion five... Since Adam lived in the Kanto region, driving over to League Headquarters was not practical. League Headquarters was in an entirely different part of the world. And as far as Adam knew, according to the last report that he'd seen before all the other reports had started coming in, the sandwag had mostly been sighted around the Kanto region. Adam wasn't certain if the creature was still in this area - but he would hate to leave the region and then find out that it was.

So the closest ranked League Champion was Jim. And Jim had said earlier that if Adam needed to have a nice long chat about League policy... Perhaps taking Jim up on that offer would help make Adam tired. Jim might have been joking about the lecture but Adam didn't view such things as joking matters. He wasn't sure why not.

He also wasn't sure where Jim lived.

Granted, Adam didn't technically have to drive anywhere but he was feeling restless. Perhaps going for a drive would calm his nerves. Maybe he would be able to get some sleep afterwards. He didn't mind sleep. Sleep was...normal...right? Sleep was...an escape.

He'd probably spent far more than half his life asleep. He wasn't sure what that meant or where that feeling came from but... Sometimes, Adam wondered if he'd ever actually woken up. Maybe he was still sleeping now? Maybe this was all a bad dream? If he fell asleep in the dream... Would he wake up then? Were living weapons meant to be capable of dreams at all?

It gave Adam a mild headache to even attempt to dwell on this.

Living alone had its ups and downs. Adam had realized that his subconscious mind was mostly intact but... He was also starting to become more aware of things that he would sincerely rather not be aware of. Adam could almost feel the ideas trying to seep in and he wasn't prepared to accept them, much less deal with them. So, yea. A drive might be a good way to focus his attention elsewhere.

Despite the many gaps in his memory, he did know how to drive a car. And two of his pokemon were not opposed to being nocturnal. And Sunferna would be all right, as long as he left the car radio on. The apartment was not large. It didn't take a moment to gather the team.

Sunferna was a potted plant so it had to be carried but the other monsters kept up. The car was the only vehicle in the parking lot and was still battered from being taken off the road rather suddenly - but it was in the parking lot. So Adam concluded that he must have been able to drive the vehicle, to get it here. The vehicle must still be in working order. It was a solar-powered car and so it wouldn't be easy to drive at night but thanks to Sunferna, it wouldn't be impossible to start either. All they needed once the car was started was some music to keep the plant happy.

Unfortunately, the local radio stations did not play much music at night. Nothing that could keep a person - or a plant - awake, anyway. And even though Adam would not mind being able to fall asleep and even though Adam did not understand a lot of things about himself... He knew that falling asleep while driving was not a good idea. He wondered where he'd learned that.

Adam did not like shopping. That was okay since he generally didn't need to go shopping. His apartment was furnished. There was no yard to take care of. His pokemon didn't need groceries and he tended to eat out. The marketing division of the League had provided him with some extra clothes, he had a closet full of the same outfit. It was like a uniform. Red and black seemed to be his favorite colors. He wasn't sure why but it just felt right. His shoes... Adam knew that his footwear had been expensive but he couldn't remember where he'd gotten the rocket shoes or why they were so important to him. They just were. A dentist had given him a toothbrush and almost everything else... Had been sent to him. By fans. His pokemon could eat the greeting cards and letters and drawings and photos... His pokemon could eat anything. But... Once in a while... They didn't.

Sunferna loved music. So when fans sent their mysterious hero anything musical... Sunferna kept the other pokemon from eating it. Hence the car was full of music CDs that the fans had sent in. Adam picked one at random and wasn't even listening to the song, as it started to play. Apparently the entire CD had been dedicated to him by people that he'd never met. It was a band called Kansas - but who knew what that meant? Bands had such weird names.

_Carry on oh wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done..._

**ooxoo**

**W**hen the world ending gets to be such a common event that it is practically the normal state of affairs... Then what does it mean?

How did the world ever survive without certain heros?

If world-saving could be a full time occupation for anyone... Then what might it really take, to challenge - or at least preoccupy - some of those heros?

Fate has prospects. Mythology is deranged. Something else is not without a warped sense of humor.

That's probably a good place to start.

Sonic was recovering. He wasn't in a hurry to open his eyes though because he didn't want to know where he was. If he was still inside that...whatever that trap was called... Then he would rather not be recovering. Sonic was an interdimensional warrior. He'd been fighting for longer than he could clearly recall. Opponents had always threatened to kill him. There had been situations where he'd been trapped and forced to wait for rescue. There had been plenty of situations where he had been near death or under the impression that he might die and possibly even once where he had actually died. Sonic could not be sure of that but time travel was confusing and even the things that he himself did not remember - and that he might have been happier not knowing about... His friends did remember. Tails had eventually told him. And Tails didn't lie.

Tails hadn't wanted to tell him. But Sonic had noticed that the kitsunes behavior had changed. For a while, right after that one adventure... Tails had gone from being a kinda spacy easygoing unmitigated genius to tiptoeing around the blue hedgehog and/or bursting into tears. Hence Sonic had, of course, been concerned. He had asked his best friend/adopted little brother what was wrong and had, gradually, gotten the story out of the kid. And while Sonics untimely demise was something that shouldn't have to happen now, thanks to corrections that had been made to that weird timeline... Sonic was still not comfortable thinking about it. So he generally didn't.

However the idea that Dr. Robotnik may have helped to save the blue hedgehogs life, even once... Saving the world made sense - the evil guy couldn't rule the world if the world didn't exist. But saving his nemesis... Sonic wasn't entirely sure what to make of that. Were they such established enemies now that Robotnik felt nobody else was allowed to defeat Sonic? Or had someone just threatened the old guys life if he didn't help?

Probably, someone had just threatened the olds guy life.

Still. Even with his own lifetimes worth of death threats, near death experiences and situations that seemed to have 'enter and die' written all over them... Sonic had almost always survived. And he had always believed that he would survive. That was normal, for heroic warriors. You couldn't go into a fight with courage if you thought that you were doomed. Sonic was a stubborn optimist and a free spirit. He had discovered early on that being able to laugh at his enemies made them seem less fearsome. It had given him the courage to do whatever needed to be done. He'd always found his way out of traps, eventually. He'd always fought his way to freedom. No matter how demented and complex a problem seemed... Once he was committed to the challenge, Sonic worked until a solution was found. Sometimes he needed help but... He never let a serious problem go unsolved, if he could avoid it. And while he didn't mind showing off the skills that he'd worked hard and risked everything for... Sonic wasn't ever just saving the world for his own sake. He had many reasons.

But that...whatever the trap had been...

It had to be destroyed.

No matter what else might be going on in this world, that trap had to be destroyed.

The inside of the trap had been completely silent. The world around Sonic now was not silent. The blue hedgehog was not feeling a hundred percent but he reluctantly opened his eyes.

Antoine was standing by the doorway, mildly beaten up, scowling and rubbing his head. He muttered something about half-robotic maniacs and how even though his natural hair did look like a toupee, it was not a wig. He leaned into the hallway. "HEY! A better name for you would be full MENTAL and you ARE kind of shor..." Antoine had to retreat to avoid being killed.

And then, further down the hallway, so did the person trying to kill him.

Someone had tried to explain to the local Nurse Joy that she could have an assistant. Neither she nor the captive semi-robotic guy had been thrilled with that idea. Nurse Joy took her work very seriously. Being offered an assistant was, to her digital mind, like being told that she hadn't done a good enough job. It was an insult. The work was her reason for existing and now they wanted her to train some new guy - did that mean he was going to replace her eventually? Nurse Joy wasn't going to stand for anyone trying to replace her. And as a robot... She knew how to deal with other robots. This pretender was NOT going to take her job! She wouldn't allow it!

Alchemists... Even dangerously skilled alchemists... Run away from things more than you'd expect. But this one had special motivation. Nurse Joy had calmly and cheerfully promised to teach this one a few things about surgery. By operating on him. And while alchemists with metallic limbs were not easily scared... Nurse Joy had been designed to withstand all the elemental wrath that a sick pokemon might throw at her. Her resistance was such that she could carry a giant magnet around without being affected by it. An alchemist with metallic limbs could do all sorts of damage to opponents when needed - but the guy was not immune to magnets. So he had to run away, to try and avoid being captured again.

Since Nurse Joy, the local police and several local pokemon trainers were now all busy chasing down what they viewed as a half-robotic madman... Antoine and the few other people around had decided that perhaps it wasn't safe to sit out in the foyer. So those who were still around the PokeCenter were sitting in the back rooms, where trainers weren't usually allowed to go. The derailed train had not, thankfully, had too many passengers on board. Hence Nurse Joy had found the time to heal all the creatures and bandage up all the people before the semi-robotic captive had first recovered enough to try and escape.

Thus Sonic was healed, once again but his aching limbs still did not like him very much. The painful memory of the recent injuries had chosen to linger even after the injuries themselves were gone. His own physical body was now giving serious consideration to disowning him.

"...welcome back." Antoine noticed the green eyes that were nearly staring a hole through him. He was so relieved just to see the sandwag awake that he didn't even flinch. He managed a weak smile and nodded towards the hallway as he turned away from it. "Congratulations, you're not the craziest creature on the planet anymore." Antoine said as he took a seat nearby but there was an undertone of: 'if you EVER scare me like that again.'

Sonic did not understand why anyone outside of the trap should have been frightened. Nor did he fully understand why they were in a hospital place again. He didn't like hospitals and especially not the ones in this world and... "What was that thing you trapped me with?" And he spoke with the clear undertone of: 'I have forgiven some pretty ridiculous things in my life but I don't know if I can forgive that.'

"The pokeball?" Antoine sighed. "You must be the only creature in the world that doesn't know..." He let the statement trail off. Antoine decided that he didn't feel like being in another argument so soon. "Look. Tell me something. If I were to hug you, just for a moment, would you be inclined to rip my arm off?"

Sonic considered this. "Probably."

"Thought so." Antoine folded his arms and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. He'd had a very long day. He had managed to escape serious harm and he wasn't completely sure how. His bicycle had perished in the train wreck. "You probably don't even ask for a hug when you need one, hrm?"

Sonic was almost regretting waking up. He changed the subject, going back to what he now felt his mission was. "What I need is a way to destroy that pokeball. You wouldn't happen to know how to do that, would you?"

Antoine shook his head. "If I ever catch up to the people who built you, I am going to do everything in my power to have them arrested for being idiots."

"Why do you avoid answering so many of my questions? And..." Sonic was waking up a bit more. He had managed to get his body to reluctantly call a truce on the whole issue of movement. So, now that he had the ability to move again, he tried to stretch and discovered something. "...why am I wrapped in your coat?"

"Because I can't believe that you have to ask such things." Antoine frowned, answering the questions in the order they had been asked and looking up at the ceiling from his seat. He spoke in a soft voice that was somewhere between exhausted, frustrated and just not caring to be overheard by the other people in the building. "And you are wrapped in my coat because I didn't want you to catch a cold. You might have been close to dead, when I released you. And then there was a train wreck. And an explosion. And that crazy short guy. You probably don't remember being carried here on a stretcher, do you? I helped with that. I didn't let anyone put you back in a pokeball. They probably all think that I'm insane now. That's why we have a room to ourselves. Oh and being wrapped in the coat may have also kept anyone from recognizing you as an illegal species. Otherwise they might have seized you."

The startled silence would have to be enough of a response. Sonic was grateful to be alive but he was not feeling in the mood to thank anyone who had put him into the trap in the first place.

Nurse Joy strolled cheerfully past the room with a sulking disgruntled prisoner attached to a giant magnet. However alchemists can be crafty. The guy uses his non-metallic arm to reach up and transmute the giant magnet into something else. The prisoner runs off again. Unfortunately, he's just given Nurse Joy a giant metal frisbee. And she is not opposed to using it. And being a robot, she has good aim. So the large frisbee whirls down the hall with Nurse Joy following it expectantly. There is a thud and a clang as the frisbee connects, somewhere out of sight. Then a new round of fighting starts.

"It's no big deal." Antoine muttered to break the silence in the room. "I've known you for less than a day and I've probably only saved your life two or three times now. You must not have been... finished... when you escaped from whomever built you. So it can't be your fault. You don't seem to know your way around in this world."

Antoine yawned. He let a quiet moment pass while reflecting on the truth of that last statement. This sandwag... It really did not seem to know it's way around in this world. It really was not what a pokemon should be. Maybe... Just maybe... Could the creature have been telling the truth all along? Was sandwag from another world? What if this animal was not a pokemon? If this creature was not a pokemon then what was it? And how had the animal gotten here? And why was it here? Antoine didn't know what to feel about this concept but he had become more willing to give the idea some thought. If there were other worlds out there... Other inhabited worlds... That was profound! That was amazing! That was news! But having galactic neighbors wouldn't automatically mean galactic visitors, would it? Just because they be might out there, that didn't guarantee that the inhabitants of other worlds would be interested in coming over. Right?

He let these thoughts linger for a few moments before shaking his head. No, no. Antoine wasn't ready to accept that perhaps he was dealing with a creature from another world, an alien lifeform. That didn't seem right. Sandwag had to be a pokemon. A struggling and badly educated pokemon but a pokemon nonetheless. It fit the definition: the creature had clearly been designed for battle and it was in this world. That made it a pokemon. And the pokeball had responded to the sandwag, that counted too. Because a pokeball wouldn't have been able to capture an alien, would it? Antoine wasn't certain but he didn't think so. He felt that pokeballs should somehow be able to tell the difference between pokemon and aliens. He didn't know if pokeballs would, in fact, be able to tell the difference but he felt that they should.

With another yawn, Antoine dismissed the whole idea. Aliens existing? Aliens coming over to visit? Aliens trying to save a world that wasn't even theirs? Nah. It was too much. It was too hard to believe. It didn't seem likely. Stuff like that only happened in the movies. Antoine refocused and spoke again. "Pokeballs are expensive because of what they are designed to withstand. What you were in... It was the basic model, okay? I couldn't afford anything better. And..."

"...what you're telling me..." Sonic repeated as if hoping that he'd misheard it. "...is that there are other kinds of these...pokeballs? And the others...are stronger?"

"Yes." Antoine nearly clapped. Maybe the sandwag could be educated. "The companies that make the pokeballs try to invent at least one or two new types each year and this has probably been going on for more than a hundred years. Not all of the older models are in use anymore but they do still exist. And there's countless numbers of each kind of pokeball out there. They were mass produced because all the trainers use them. And because of what the pokeball has to be able to contain... They are not easily destroyed. Do you understand? That is why they're so expensive."

"These...other traps..." Sonic ventured. "Are they all the same, on the inside?"

"As far as I know, yes." replied Antoine, with a certain amount of forced patience. He was a bit irritated that he even had to try and explain this to a pokemon. "The main difference between the types of pokeballs is how they look on the outside and the strength of the seal. Some of the pokeballs have been made to work better on certain types of pokemon but..." He let that trail off with a shrug.

Silence in the room. A small war somewhere in the hallway.

"Maybe you're right." Sonic eventually muttered, closing his eyes again and hating to have to reach this conclusion. "Maybe your world doesn't need saving."

Antoine was tempted to say 'I TOLD you so' but instead he frowned and said. "...I am not sure that I like the way you said that."

"Would these...traps...be able to survive the world ending?" Sonic asked.

He wished that he could think of another way but right now, he couldn't. This wasn't an easy idea for the heroic hedgehog to come to terms with but maybe this was the correct thing to do, under the circumstances. He'd had to let things go before. It wasn't a habit that Sonic wanted to get comfortable with but... This world had so many problems and they'd had them for such a long time, apparently. Sonic had wanted to help them but he wasn't sure where to even begin anymore. He couldn't see a quick solution. The rules here were different. Plus Sonic missed his friends. He missed his home. He missed his own dimension. He'd been having such a nice day, before he fell into this place by accident. And he'd been knocked out at least twice, frozen, trapped and hospitalized repeatedly since arriving here. He was fed up with that. Not to mention all the fighting and... Maybe all that he really needed to do in this world, Sonic had started to feel, was find a way to leave it. There had to be a way to leave it. He'd only been in this place for maybe one day - but that was enough. More than enough. Sonic was ready to be done here.

"Remember what I said about you not being the craziest creature on the planet anymore?" Antoine huffed. "I take it back. Even that short weirdo, you can make him seem normal. Though why a half-robot should want a rock collection..."

The change in the blue hedgehogs mood was instant.

"WHAT ROCK COLLECTION?"

Antoine took a few seconds to recover from being knocked over. The blue animal was now standing on his chest, glaring down at him. "Not you, too?!" Antoine exclaimed, bewildered. "Look, there is no such thing as a philosophers stone and..."

Sonic interrupted. He could not believe that he'd almost forgotten about the rocks. "What about a chaos emerald?"

"What?! No! Why? Were you designed to be a jewel thief or something?!"

"..." Sonic tapped a foot against Antoines throat, to keep the human from getting up. "Not exactly. I just need to borrow... I can change into..." Sonic did not feeling like trying to explain super mode to anyone. He wasn't sure that he fully understood it. Sonic was usually very busy, when he was super and it was a temporary transformation for him. So he hadn't had a lot of opportunity to stand around in that mode, understanding it. Going super gave him the temporary power to do stuff that he couldn't normally do. Like fly. And breathe underwater. And defeat things that he couldn't defeat otherwise. And probably...destroy...pokeballs. All of them. Everywhere. Hopefully. That had to be a step towards saving this dimension. And if Shadow was here at all then at least one of the chaos emeralds was probably here somewhere as well and... Sonic did not usually wish for any form of Shadow to be around but right now, he was counting on it. "If there are ANY kind of special rocks in this world - tell me." Sonic demanded. "I can do a whole lot worse than rip your arm off, if I have to."

Antoine scowled but he believed that the animal meant it. "Some way to thank a person for saving you." He protested and then he sighed. "Listen, I'm not a geologist. I'm not a rock collector or a jeweler. I am just a... If I keep my job, I'm an apprentice historian. The only 'special rocks' that I could tell you about are the ones that haven't been used for more than hundred years because the pokemon don't evolve anymore and..."

"...the animals in this world once used the rocks to evolve?" Sonic blinks at how familiar this sounds. "...and you don't call them chaos emeralds?"

"No." Antoine manages to sit up a little. "They were called evolution stones."

"Were there seven of them?"

Antoine blinks. "Uhm... No. There were...more than anyone ever counted. But..." Antoine does a mental checklist. He has studied this subject. "There _were_ seven main types. ...why are you hugging me now?"

"Impulse." Sonic was that relieved. He released the quick embrace. He didn't mind hugs once in a while - as long as he started them. And the news of the rocks was worth celebrating. Sonic was starting to feel a plan come on. Maybe he could find a way to get through this after all. Gathering the emeralds was a challenge that he was good at. He just needed a direction to start in. "Where do we find the rocks, Tony?"

Antoine resists the urge to correct the creature about his name, again. "We don't. I mean, nobody has used them in..."

"These rocks happened by themselves, right? People found them out in the wild?" Sonic prompted. "And there were more than anyone could count? So there are probably still some out in the wild? And was each type of rock a different solid color?"

Antoine is badly confused. "How...? I mean... With everything that your creators forgot to teach you... You know about the evolution stones?"

"If I'm here, they're out there." Sonic nodded. "And the sooner I find them all, the better. Just tell me where to look."

"...do you really need all of them?" Antoine was trying to imagine what kind of monster the sandwag might become. Most of the extinct pokemon had, according to the documentation, only needed one evolution stone to permanently transform. And none of the new genetic pokemon were even supposed to have a transformation. Antoine wasn't excited about this adventure but he kind of wanted to see if the sandwag actually knew what it was doing, for a change. Did the animal have an evolution? That would explain a lot about why the sandwag was so clueless now. Would evolving make sandwag any smarter? Antoine was curious. But he was also expecting that the poor delusional animal would just get mauled and need saving again. And even though he wasn't too impressed with the creature... He did still feel responsible for it.

Also... It was true that the evolution stones had existed in the wild and might still exist in the wild. The evolution stones had not been man-made. People had mined the rocks and carved them and sold them but nature alone had made the evolution stones. And even if nobody used the rocks on pokemon anymore... The rocks did have some historic and asthetic value. People did still like to try and collect them. Whether or not Antoine kept his job, he knew that if he found any of the rocks - or even just small pieces of them - then he could sell them and not have to worry about having an income for awhile. But the reason the prices were so high was because finding the rocks was rare, to say the least. So many people had looked for them, over the past century. And most of those people HAD been geologists. They had kept detailed written accounts of their expeditions. And they hadn't found anything worth reporting, as far as evolution stones went.

Still. Just talking about the rocks seemed to mean so much to the blue animal. Why not humor the creature for now?

Or try to break the news gently.

"We're near a place called Blackthorn City." Antoine explained. "Do you remember the train? Did you see the mountains? Yes? Well, there's a huge cave system underneath those mountains. It's a giant natural maze that has collapsed in places and which has its own underground lake. The area is considered a historic site. So the whole place is patrolled by trainers. But one of the older mountains in the range is called Mount Moon and so if you wanted to find a moonstone... The caves around, under and inside that mountain might be the best place to check. And the closest to where we are now."

Sonic accepts this news as stoicly as he can and prompts. "What about the others?"

Antoine considers what he has studied and makes some educated guesses. "All of the locations are going to be difficult in one way or another, if that's what you're getting at. There are records of firestone being found inside volcanos - so that might be the second closest to us. Uhm. Thunderstone is supposed to be found beneath abandoned power plants, unless you'd prefer to chase severe thunderstorms and see if you can track down the exact spot where lightening strikes twice. Leafstone can probably be found deep within ancient forests - and those tend to be overgrown, so they have no paths. And did you know that the really ancient forests can cover areas larger than some countries? Sunstone could require you to travel to another part of the world and endure a crumbling cave system that has its own river and waterfalls. Waterstone is recorded as coming from a cave system located in an ocean trench. But these are just guesses, all right? Finding anything at all is not a guarantee."

_Moon. Sun. Fire. Thunder. Water. Leaf._ "Tony, that's only six types..."

"Uhm... " Antoine felt his frown deepen. There were a lot of scholarly debates about whether or not the seventh type should even be counted. How to explain? At least the sandwag was paying attention. "Those six types I've mentioned? They could each be used to force a creature to evolve. Okay?"

Sonic tries to remain patient but he doesn't like standing still so much. "Okay..."

"The last type that we have record of is called an Everstone." says Antoine. "Everstone were used to prevent evolution instead of causing it. So... They are involved with evolution, in a way but some people don't class them as an evolution stone."

"And it exists in some risky faraway maze, right?" Sonic guesses, having noticed the pattern.

"If it does exist." Antoine shrugs.

"There is no giant magical rock that can summon all of these smaller rocks, is there?" Sonic asks, skeptical but hoping for the best. "And there's no single place in the world where all these different types of rocks can be found, right?"

"Not that I've ever heard of." Antoine is sincerely telling the truth, as far as he knows. But he doesn't know everything. He watches as the blue animal becomes visibly disappointed. He is surprised that he feels compelled to try and cheer the creature up. "Don't feel bad. Not even the League Museum has a set. We just have pictures in books and a few posters for display and... You know, you just got healed." Antoine has a flash of parental concern. He gingerly touches the sandwags forehead, checking to see if the fever has returned. "Perhaps you ought to rest some more. If you really want to run all over the world looking for things that haven't been used in a hundred years... I get the feeling that I can't stop you but... Would you at least wait until morning?"

Even Sonic has to admit that this sounds like sensible advice. Taking on enormous mazes in the dark was not his favorite thing. Especially not when there was a potential for water hazards, cave-ins, being attacked by trained elemental monsters or freezing to death in cold mountain climates. But... This world already seemed to be out of balance and... "What if there isn't that much time?" Sonic was feeling, as both a humanoid animal and an experienced warrior, restless. The sooner he got all this over with, the sooner he should be able to go home.

Then he added. "You shouldn't come. You wouldn't be able to keep up."

Which also implied: I don't really consider you a friend but I would not wish for you to get hurt or taken prisoner and used against me. That would slow me down.

Antoine has not caught all of this but is comforted to know that the sandwag might be capable of being considerate. He still didn't believe that the world might be in danger. It had been a weird day for him but everyone had weird days once in a while, probably. Anyone who knew this blue animal probably had a lot of weird days. And while Antoine wasn't totally opposed to the sandwag leaving... Antoine was a good person.

The conflict in the hallway had ended, from the sounds of things. Maybe it would be safe to leave the room.

Antoine did not live in Blackthorn City but he had visited the area before. And he was betting that he now knew the sandwag just well enough to stall it. He felt that the creature should be stalled, for its own safety. "I promised that I would get you some new shoes, if you lived." Antoine said quietly in the tones of someone who knew that they didn't have to keep a promise made to an unconscious creature but who was going to attempt to do so anyway. "Is there time for that, at least? You shouldn't go off barefoot."

"You're trying to stall me." Sonic grumbled. He knew the tactic well, it was used against him often. And as great as it might have been to get new shoes... Sonic wasn't a fan of shopping and he didn't have much faith in the shoe stores in this dimension anymore. As nice as the offer was... Even if there were some sneakers in this world, there would probably not be any sneakers that could survive him. Plus Sonic had made it this far barefoot and... As much as he cared for his feet... He was feeling restless. He just didn't know if there was time.

Nurse Joy strolled by cheerfully, again. She was dragging the mauled alchemist by his legs since he was now wearing the giant metal frisbee. They were followed by an escort of scowling police and scuffed up pokemon trainers. Sonic had no idea what any of the humans or robots were saying to each other - their tones seemed threatening - but he privately wondered if robotization was reversible in this world. Maybe the operation was risky here, too. Maybe that's why the robotic guy didn't look happy? Or perhaps the robotic guy was just overdue for some shots? Sonic didn't feel that it was any of his business to get involved and really did not want to revisit the giant needle experience. He had enough else to worry about at the moment, without that.

Although... Robots hardly ever turned up in Sonics life by accident. There was always a reason.

And... This robot had apparently been in the room earlier, harrassing Antoine. But it hadn't tried to kill Sonic. So maybe it had a different reason.

And... He was a hero. So he was supposed to try and save everyone, wasn't he?

And...

"Hey," Sonic pointed towards the hallway as a new idea settled on him, "that guy was wearing white gloves!"

**ooxoo**

**B**oris and Natasha are loitering in a dark alley. There's a sign behind them that says: No Loitering. However that was just convenient. These criminals needed some time to think for themselves. Together.

"Fearless Leader seem different to you?" says Boris, who is trying to decide if he cares. Granted, they had worked for the same criminal mastermind for what felt like at least hundred years and so some degree of loyalty had developed but... They were, by their own definitions, bad people. So they weren't really comfortable with the subject of caring about others. Because it didn't sound evil enough to be worth their time.

They had only made the effort to sort of care about each other since neither of them wanted to have to stand in front of the boss alone. And they had made the effort to care about their leaders happiness because it simply wasn't safe to ignore orders from the guy. Fearless Leader was a tyrant. Also, he had been a classmate. Boris had graduated from the same school and in the same year. He'd gotten a job right out of college because of his connections. Actually he'd gotten a job while in the process of getting out of college. Boris had graduated quickly due to helping the tyrant overthrow their college. Fearless Leader had considered the college good practice and had taken over their country shortly after graduating. Those of their teachers who had survived had been very proud to see their students putting their education to such use.

Whatever else you might say about Fearless Leader, he'd always known what he wanted from life. He had wanted to rule the world. He'd gotten a country instead. Pottsylvania was a small nation and its major export was, in fact, spies. It was not widely regarded as valuable property but it was certainly more than nothing. And while ruling a country was not the same as ruling the world... Fearless Leader had been in charge of one of the most treacherous populations on the planet for more than half a century. His fearless leadership had only been seriously challenged once, by another aspiring tyrant, but he'd outlived that particular obscure challenger and had taken over the criminal organization - which also doubled as the local military - more or less just by turning up for work every single day.

And now, Fearless Leader seemed different.

Natasha says something. The subtitles take a few moments and make several valid points. Nothing about this world seems right. Moose and squirrel were annoying and frustrating but those animals had never caused them serious harm. Meanwhile the animals that they had seen in this world... Even some of the plants, in this world. Even the plant that Boris had brought with him...

Boris was not merely a Master of Disguise and a Master Criminal. He was also a Master Gardener. Boris didn't always get to go home much due to his work, so the plants usually survived without him and even when he did visit home - the plants were hostile. Boris wouldn't have had it any other way. He was so proud of how evil they were. Boris lived in a country full of criminals but he never had to worry about his own house being safe with the garden there. The plants ate anyone who trespassed on the property or tried to deliver anything. When he was at home, Boris carefully poisoned the dirt and the water. He sometimes read history books to his plants, as if to inspire them. As a result the plants had grown to be bigger than Boris. The plants occasionally tried to eat him. Whole. Natasha had always rescued Boris from his own garden but the things that she had to do the plants - including using a fully armed military tank against them - had only made them stronger. Boris had developed so much pride in the results of his hobby that he did occasionally bring a potted plant to work with him, just in case there was a flower show to sabotage.

He raised many kinds of plants but his absolute favorite specimen was a giant man-eating variation on the Venus Fly Trap.

It had never used elemental attacks before, though.

Boris was so proud. Natasha was impressed but concerned. Fearless Leader had given the plant a place of honor in his office. But Fearless Leader seemed different, now and Boris wasn't going to leave his prized plant there.

Maybe Fearless Leader wasn't feeling well. Or maybe the plant had attacked him. Whatever had happened - they didn't know. Their boss had always looked at them, before. Had always faced them while giving orders or insults. On their last visit, though... Fearless Leader had been sitting in a big chair the whole time. With his back to them. His voice had sounded a bit different but they hadn't even gotten to see his face and that bothered them more. Fearless Leader had insulted them as usual and had given them a new mission but... To not face them...

Boris generally took insults as if they were compliments but not being looked at was, even to his mind, disrespectful. And it wasn't about honor it was... Sense. Common criminal sense. It was just generally wise to be paranoid and suspicious and to keep an eye on people, where Boris came from. If Fearless Leader couldn't be bothered to look at them... Then that was like being regarded as harmless. And even if Boris and Natasha came fairly close to being harmless, in the long run... Fearless Leader had almost never treated them that way. He'd been publically ashamed of his bumbling minions and had yelled at them and had nearly ordered their deaths several times - but he tended to face them. Fearless Leader was fearless. He had nothing to hide. And Fearless Leader was smart, thus he didn't usually turn his back on people from his own country unless he truly wanted to dare them to empty his pockets.

So Boris was confused. Should they follow the new orders or not? Did they dare to question Fearless Leader even if Fearless Leader had changed? If someone had done something to their Fearless Leader... If someone else was tough enough to take over... Then should that alone be enough to inspire loyalty?

Maybe.

What Natasha wanted to know about this world was simple and profound. She had narrowed it down to one very important question and that was: how did humans even exist in this place?

"Is good question." Boris agrees, a touch reluctantly. He didn't care so much about the big picture. "I no sure."

They wait, squinting up at the night sky as if hoping for a narrator to come along and give them some hints about what to do next.

Instead a girl riding on a baseball bat arrives in the alley. "Uhm... Hi." says Meg, "You look like...criminals. But hey, maybe everyone here looks that way. I don't know. Trendy, anyway. Listen, I'm new to this area and I seem to have gotten a bit lost. Uh. Do you suppose that you could give me directions to..."

Boris chooses to point out the obvious. "You have monkey on your back."

"Yes." Meg agrees. "Try not to upset him. He's evil."

Meg is not aware that she has just spoken these words to perhaps the only two humans on the planet who might be inclined to take her statement as a challenge.

Boris is offended. "You sayin we not evil?"

Natasha echos this sentiment, in creative subtitles. Even the oversized Venus Fly Trap is offended. The plant launches one of its new attacks.

The fight develops from there. It's not very organized.

Unlike most pokemon trainers, Meg does not have the ability to tell her animals what to do. Evil Monkey is the only animal out at the moment and he does not take orders. However Meg does have a baseball bat, some inner rage of her own and nobody has yet explained to her that the trainers don't actually have to be involved in the fighting. So she also chooses to defend herself. And just by being involved, she inadvertantly saves the Evil Monkey from becoming plant food at least once.

Even if Boris and Natasha knew the rules of combat, they would ignore them. They're outlaws. And Boris would almost not be himself if he wasn't carrying a bundle of dynamite under his hat. And Natasha could even use her perfume as a weapon, if she had to. They both owned and carried guns but they were experienced minions and recognized that they had bad aim. Besides... Boris felt that while guns could be useful tools of intimidation, shooting creatures was just boring and not clever at all - it would do nothing for his evil reputation. Natasha held the opinion that guns were more likely to be successfully used against her than by her but also felt that a gun made a unique concealed fashion accessory.

Nobody pulls a gun. So the fighting takes a while. The battle goes back and forth. A painful but comical cloud of dust is raised and this reduces visibility.

Meg uses the opportunity to depart. Her rage generally comes in short bursts and she gets bored quickly. She is a bit scratched up and grumbles about people being rude, vowing that she will find her own way. She is dragging Evil Monkey along. He leaves claw marks in the pavement, not wanting to give up the fight and points menacingly in the direction of his opponents, as if promising to return eventually. But he knows how close the battle was, so he also lets himself be dragged away.

The Chosen One had been given five pokeballs in total but she wasn't sure how to use them yet. And she wasn't certain if she really wanted to use the pokeballs, either. Meg didn't know the other monsters. She wasn't sure that she wanted to know the other monsters. She didn't trust them. She didn't currently have a pokeball for Evil Monkey and wasn't sure how to feel about that - but she kind of trusted him. A little. Not much. He was evil but he'd lived in the same house as her family. And he hadn't really been all that evil to her, considering the treatment she usually got from the rest of her family. So Meg felt that she knew what to expect, at least, from the Evil Monkey. Although if she got the chance to put him in a pokeball as well... Then she would.

Once the comical cloud of dust has settled... Boris and Natasha are confronted first with the fact that they had continued fighting against each other even after their shared target left. And second... With the sight of the giant Venus Fly Trap which is now trying to eat a bundle of dynamite. How the dynamite got lit is not clear but the fuse is burning.

Boris reaches out as if to snatch the dynamite back but Natasha is quicker. And taller. She grabs her friend, lifts him off the ground and runs away. They could both survive explosions at close range, normally. However Natasha just wasn't certain if things worked that way anymore, in this world.

The giant Venus Fly Trap expands with the internal explosion, deflates once the explosion is over and exhales a wreath of smoke. The plant survives. It had survived worse, just being raised by a Master Criminal in a country full of spies. Since the top of the plant is so much larger than the base, the plant is capable of leaning in one direction and dragging itself along. Dynamite was not very nutritous. The plant decides to go look for something else to eat. It was, after all, a predator.

**ooxoo**

**H**ow DID humans even exist in this place? If the animals had been dangerous since pre-prehistoric times... If even the rocks and plants had always been dangerous... Even before the pokeball was invented... Then how had people come into being?

Mythology has heard a story.

Begin a cutscene. Once upon a time... There was a beautiful garden of paradise. There's a woman. Every culture on the planet that lasts for more than ten minutes will end up creating a new name for the lady and describing her differently but they all seemed to agree that in the beginning, she was not wearing much. Perhaps fashion sense had not been invented yet. Or perhaps the tropical climate had made it comfortable to go without fashion.

An enterprising snake slithers up to the lady and tries to sell her a slightly nibbled piece of holy fruit, claiming that it can cure any disease and had only been used once before by a sweet little old churchmouse. And, the snake continues, if the lady accepts the offer and places her order now - right now, for a limited time, while supplies last - she'll also recieve a handy-dandy matching set of new and improved blunt twigs. But wait, that's not all...

The lady yawns and waits for the sales pitch to end. She knows that all of the animals, birds, insects, reptiles, amphians and fish are allowed to eat the holy fruit but the people are not, for some reason. And why the forbidden fruit tree is right smack in the middle of the garden instead of somewhere harder to access - she doesn't understand. If the humans are not meant to eat from this tree then why is it right there? And if the humans were actually meant to eat from the tree then why have they been told not to? And weren't the flashing neon warning signs a bit much? Wouldn't it have been easier to ignore the tree without the flashing neon warning signs? And if some divine power had truly made everything then why wasn't everything considered holy? Why did only the one tree get that title? And why did they need to have a tree full of holy fruit that could supposively cure any disease, anyway? This was paradise. There was no disease.

The snake, who has been saddled with the responsiblity of being symbolic of eternal healing, is particularly frustrated about there not being any current need for healers. Yet the lady and the snake are able to discuss the whole issue intelligently. They suspect that the divine powers are not very good at reverse psychology yet. Then a guy comes along. A male human. He is wearing more clothes. He needs the clothes to help carry all his weapons. The guy has a pistol. And several knives. And a whip. And he HATES snakes.

"Ugh. I HATE snakes!" he says, to make sure that everyone knows.

The whip cracks. The snake is injured but will eventually shed a layer of skin to heal itself, slither away to file a complaint and become a lawyer. However all of the other creatures in the garden take offense and decide to teach the guy a lesson by seeking revenge in more immediate ways. So a rabbit kicks him, a squirrel throws a boulder at him, a pig attempts to fling him through a concrete wall, a monkey tries to rip his head off, the insects swarm... Thus begins the harrowing and violent adventure of Indiana Jones And The Animal Kingdom. The lady observes from the sidelines in silence for a while then sighs, shakes her head, looks down at the holy fruit and decides that getting thrown out of the garden might be an improvement. But anyone who has ever watched Mr. Van Dyke Goes To The Furniture Store knows that the struggle was destined to continue for many sequels...er...generations and that eventually inanimate man-made objects would join the ranks of the enemies conspiring against humanity. End the cutscene.

Fate has heard a different story.

Begin a cutscene. A bunch of simple microscopic creatures living in the ocean spontaneously - yet collectively - decide to become the pre-prehistoric living equivalent of legos. They join forces, fuse together and - over the course of many eons - take on different shapes. Several of these experimental shapes fail and the order in which they develop is not entirely logical. There are more than a few awkward embarrassing phases. Eventually though there is a group of primitive hairy creatures, somewhere between monkey and human and still slightly blocky since the lego idea had not worn off yet. They are huddling together in a cave. The world outside the cave is anything but a garden of paradise. The world is out to get them. But speech has recently been invented so these creatures are now making a plan. A guy - although it's hard to be certain, with all the fur - has become the leader.

He tells the group. "You know, we should go out there and fight back. We should build houses out of rocks. We should cut down the plants. And the animals? We can use them for everything. Just...everything. Yeah. We'll hunt them and eat them but also keep them as pets. We'll shave off our own fur and wear their fur instead. We'll use them as furniture, construction tools, playground equipment and in the place of technology that we haven't even dreamed of yet. If that doesn't confuse them all into behaving for us, nothing will! Oh and my name is the Great Original Fred. Therefore, we will call our town Fredrock. Okay? Got it?"

Once everyone has been convinced that this plan is worth a try, they leave the cave together to begin working towards these goals. But no one has invented good spelling yet. So the town ends up with a different name. And despite the fact that these early people do not openly intend to show much respect for any part of the environment... Since they are using everything, living or dead, they do not create much waste. And they actually manage to invent some of the most environmentally friendly cars ever. End the cutscene.

Maybe neither one of those stories was completely accurate, for explaining how humans existed in the pokemon world. Or maybe both of them were. But...

Something else has also heard a story.

And that story was, for this adventure, the one that mattered.

So we'll have to get back to it later.

Or have you already seen parts of it?

**ooxoo**

**M**awsolaeronix hit some turbulance.

Echidna and Pikadatuffree did not ask 'what was that?' because they had both seen the explosion. When a pokemon gets to see an explosion, they only have one question: was the explosion made by a pokemon attack? From this far away and this high up, it was hard to know. But because it was night, in the darkness... The parts of the landscape below that had been lit up had stood out in sharp contrast.

Pikadatuffree cutely sniffed the air. Mawsolaeronix fought the turbulance.

"I don't smell smoke." Echidna remarked in the grumpy shrieky-roar of a creature who was discovering that she did not like being off the ground.

Pikadatuffree tilted its cute little head, which was a gesture lost on the two other creatures since they couldn't see it. "...I smell people. There must be a lot of them. Do you think that the person we're trying to help might be down there, Mom?"

Currently Echidna would take any excuse to land. "We should go check." She pulls on the sickle-shaped antlers, wishes that they could be used as steering devices and then leans down to get into the Mawsolaeronixs face and increases her volume in order to be heard over the rushing winds. "STOP. DOWN. OVER THERE."

Mawsolaeronix blinks two large slanted glowing eyes. While flying, its hearing is not so good.

Several oversized poison-tipped claws slash the not-exactly-a-dragon across its muzzle. Which beneath the fur, is solid rock. So the damage is minimal but the action makes it clear that Echidna is upset. "WHY DIDN'T THEY DESIGN YOU WITH EARS?!"

"...Mom?" Pikadatuffree has taken on the adorable contented expression of a child who is thinking_: She's so sweet. Maybe that's where I get it from._ "If you don't mind a crash landing then I could just..."

"I would rather reach the ground ALIVE." Echidna snarled, despite being seriously tempted to launch some of her own more devestating attacks. But going all out against a creature that you were riding on was probably not wise, was it?

"We would." Pikadatuffree smiles and starts to charge an attack. "Please grab the human, though. Okay? Big brother will be all right but he might drop the human. And you said that we shouldn't just leave humans laying around."

_Great. I have one creature that listens to me too much and another one that can't hear me sometimes..._ Echidna decides to shout at the one who can hear her. "WHY IS EVERYTHING FAMILY TO YOU?"

The conversation is ended by a blood-curdling ear-piercing screech.

Mawsolaeronix definitely heard that and makes a sharp turn at full speed, gliding with its wingspan stretched out at diagonal angles. Roaring in response as it circles and swoops down.

Echidna clings to the sort-of-a-dragon, feeling sick. Pikadatuffree yawns cutely.

Something feathered and angry passes them in the air, sideswiping the Mawsolaeronix and screeching again. Mawsolaeronix twists and follows it, still roaring but now also attempting to bring its jaws down on the other monsters wings. There are several chomping near misses. The feathered beast weaves through the air and retaliates. Mawsolaeronix swings its tail around, coiling in the sky and swats away the attack.

The attacking monster makes another diving pass. It has three heads, three sharp needle-shaped beaks and three eyes - one on each head. It has a wingspan that is almost dragon-worthy but it is not a dragon. It is a flying type monster whose genetics probably include Fearow and Dutrio. A person is riding on this pokemon and shouting orders but the monster ignores its trainer and squawks, at the sight of Echidna.

Echidna scowls but is not feeling well enough to respond with an attack. However the feathered creature is a flying type. And Mawsolaeronix is a rock type. And Pikadatuffree is an electric type. And some of the rules haven't changed.

Pikadatuffree, who has been charging an attack, manages to be cute and offended at the same time. "Na-uh! She likes ME better!"

Somewhere far below, a stolen double decker bus pulls up. It is no longer red. The vehicle has been repainted with a mural of the local solar system, complete with glow-in-the-dark stars and planets. A name has been painted on the side of the bus in glittering cursive letters. The name of a very special band.

The Electric Mayhem.

Which happens to also be the name of one of Pikadatuffrees attacks...

**ooxoo**

**"A**t least we're already in a hospital." Antoine sighs, glancing towards the floor.

There was an incomprehensible response.

Sonic privately begins to wonder if Fate might be legitimately conspiring against him. Although if it was then that was hardly a newsflash. His whole life had been full of challenges. But... Usually... He could have saved the world by now. Twice. At least. Even the most complex situations had always come down to something fairly simple, before. But this world... There were so many problems. And the situation seemed to change, every time that Sonic tried to understand it.

But he couldn't stop himself from trying to understand it.

Was Sonic here by accident? Or to save Shadow? Or to save Silver? Was he supposed to save the people? Or the animals? Or the whole world? If he destroyed the pokeball trap things... What if there were other animals who were trapped inside those? Would those animals be released? Or would they be destroyed along with the traps? And if he destroyed the pokeballs but not the people... Then would the people just build more of the traps? If he destroyed the animals... Would that render all the traps useless? Or would the people find other ways to use them? Would the people just build new animals to use the traps on? Maybe the only way to completely destroy the pokeballs... Maybe the only way to prevent more of these dangerous animals from being made... Was to destroy the people.

Sonic seriously did not like any of these ideas - but that didn't stop him from having them. Was there any way to get out of this warped situation without risking so many lives? Did he have time to get new shoes? Or gloves?

The evolution stones... If they could be found and gathered... Would they work like the chaos emeralds? What if they didn't? And...

"Have to say that I thought the sign was a bit much." Antoine remarked, squatting down to offer the mauled creature a hand up.

A better look at the robot-guy had thrown Sonics brain into a whole new gear. Unfortunately, the robot-guy had not spoken Sonics language and Antoine had refused to translate so... Sonic had tried to draw the guy a picture. Literally.

The sign said: scowling stick-figure of an alchemist + a badly drawn calendar = notably taller stick-figure of an overweight bald guy with a big nose and a mustache that nearly qualified as a wingspan.

No surprise, the message had not been well recieved. Antoine had anticipated the bad reaction - which was precisely why he hadn't wanted to be the messenger. Sonic had defended himself but had not been able to sidestep or block everything. Because Sonic wasn't accustomed to having opponents who were alchemists. So the real reason the skirmish was over was because the alchemist had made the mistake of ignoring Nurse Joy to vent his wrath. Nurse Joy had taken the opportunity to fetch and load one of her giant needles, thus the half-robotic guy was now thoroughly sedated and had been cheerfully dragged off.

But the damage had been done. You can't take back first impressions. And the dimensions were still twisting and fusing.

To quote an incredibly bright poet: much madness is divinest sense.

Therefore it had abruptly occurred to Sonic that perhaps this wasn't a different dimension, after all. Maybe he was somewhere in the past of his own dimension. The half-robotic guy... Was that Eggman? A very young version of Eggman? The outfit and the temper had been about right and... If the evil genius had ever been a half-robot, that might explain how he knew so much about robots and... Were all the weird powers from being half-robotic? That kind of made sense. But if all the weird powers were from being half-robotic then... Then... Why had Dr. Robotnik ever stopped being robotic? Then again, the old guy was insane. Sonic couldn't really expect to understand the logic. Maybe there wasn't any logic involved.

But... So... If this was the past then... Were the pokemon... related... to the animals in his own world? Were the pokemon... ancestors? Had the animals lost some of their fighting power in order to become more humanoid and gain social skills? Were the evolution stones... the predecessors... to the chaos emeralds?

It was a weird idea.

Yet it seemed to get less weird, with each passing moment. And... If this was the past... And some version of Dr. Robotnik was still here... Then... It wasn't the very distant past. And so...

Sonic was wrong to assume such things.

But Sonic didn't know that. And this was how thoroughly messed up the situation had become: if the puzzle didn't get sorted out, he might end up being right. Space was taking the brunt of the changes but time was feeling the pinch. The history of Sonics own world was at high risk of being replaced. The Master Emerald had already been wiped out. And this candle was burning from both ends. The future was equally uncertain. Silver had vanished.

Who would be next?

Sonic didn't have any clear memories of his own parents. But... If this wasn't the very distant past... Then... What if...?

And suddenly, a situation that had seemed ridiculously complex finally came down to something fairly simple.

_I've got to save myself before I can try to save anything else?_ thought Sonic.

There should have been a light from above and an angelic chorus but you have to book those things in advance.

Sonic had no idea of the amount of help that had already mobilized to work on the mission of getting his worlds history - and his own specific history - pinned down. But it was a personal issue and so he was entitled to a clue, anyway. If he really really wanted to risk asking for it.

Antoine had picked up the badly drawn sign and seemed lost in thought. He smiled.

Sonic had to admit, he'd not seen this human smile much. So the expression made him curious. He stood beside the human and looked up. "What's funny?"

"Hrm?" Antoine glanced down and seemed to snap out of a trance. "Oh. Was just reading the back." He shrugged. "Don't know how this ended up here. It's a cue card. Er. You probably don't know what that is, do you?"

Sonic folded his arms and scowled.

"It was a funny movie." Antoine put the sign aside and tugged at his tiny blond mustache. "I can't do the exaggerated French accent properly though..."

"Just tell me what it says, Tony." Sonic insisted. "I could use something to laugh at right about now."

"Ah. I suppose. It's out of context but... All right. There was this fake French guard at a castle. Try to imagine him saying this to someone outside the castle." Antoine coughed and shrugged and raised the pitch of his voice a little, to do an impersonation. "Your mother was a hamster and your father..." Antoine paused then switched back to his normal voice. "Uhm. Are you all right? You've gone sort of pale again..."

Sonic wandered outside for some fresh air without replying.

His first clear reaction was to think that neither of his parents could possibly have been a hamster because hamsters just didn't know anything about speed.

And so of course Sonic barely had to set foot outside before being greeted with the sight of a very short hamster. Wearing a business suit. And geeky glasses. And screaming. And running away. Uphill. In the mountains. In the dark. With a speed that was, even by hedgehog standards, respectable. Not only that, this small cowardly hamster was apparently British. No other type of coward would have paused to politely and physically lift the Queen over his head before running away. And even in the dark, you could tell it was the Queen. Because she was an older lady in a frilly dress and a sparkly crown who waved regally at passersby and who said "Shall we pause and have a cup of tea, love?" while being carried off. And she was being followed by at least a dozen tiny yipping dogs of different species. And also by a band named Queen. But thankfully the self-appointed royal band was too busy running after Her Majesty to try and sing anything because quite honestly, you could just about do an entire novel using nothing but lyrics from the band named Queen.

Sonic stood there for a few moments and then went back into the PokeCenter. He wasn't feeling well.

Which meant that he didn't even get to see what Penfold was fleeing from.

**ooxoo**

**D**ragon Lady regained consciousness.

The first thing she heard was her Mawsolaeronix, roaring.

The second thing she heard was a wide assortment of different voices, most of which were groaning in pain or uttering: "...it's...so...darn...CUTE... Arg! I can't move!"

And the third thing that she heard clearly was a band called The Electric Mayhem, rocking out in the distance. Dragon Lady didn't know who they were.

She hesitated to open her eyes. If something cute was around then she knew that she might just faint again but... Dragon Lady had a weakness for cute things. Hence she truly did want to see what was so cute, despite the known health risks. So Dragon Lady opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the ground. Which was covered in smoking gray stubble. And was still warm. And had a few flickering lines of electric blue energy crackling through it.

The second thing the Dragon Lady saw, as she rolled over and began to sit up, was Echidna. Who stood in an icy shroud, radiating hostile discontent.

_But that's not cute at all..._ thought the Dragon Lady. She blinked a few times, rubbed her eyes and was stoic enough to hide her disappointment. She was a bit surprised to see the Echidna so close by and didn't know if the rejected creature could be trusted. Although it didn't seem to be moving very much right now.

There was a slightly melted bus, off in the distance. But right behind her... Was Mawsolaeronix.

It began to occur to the Dragon Lady that her not-a-dragon, her beloved rock type, was probably the main reason she was still alive. The ground had clearly taken some heavy electrical damage. The grass that had been fireproof had not been able to withstand the intensity of the electricity. Whatever had happened... The Echidna might have been able to resist some of it but not so effectively and... What had caused all this electrical damage? Where were they? If Echidna was here... Oh. Maybe they were still at the Testing Facility? And that meant... The Pikadatuffree.

Dragon Lady blinked and inspected the state of the ground again, letting the charred dirt run through her hands. She'd had to help contain the cute little animal once before but it had never shown this kind of power and... What could have provoked the adorable creature?

She hadn't gotten to be the number three champion of the world just by fainting at the sight of excessively cute things. Seeming like a tough silent type had perhaps helped since opponents tended to get frightened but... Without turning around or asking further questions, Dragon Lady decided that this would be a good time to set her entire team loose. All of them. That way, no matter what was going on, her Mawsolaeronix should have all the help that it might need and...

"You all right?" said a voice that she knew.

Dragon Lady nodded and stood and started to turn.

"Wouldn't recommend looking this way." said Jim, a bit frazzled and staring resolutely at a fixed point in the distance. "There's a monster that can paralyze on sight over there."

Behind him, Pikadatuffree was frolicking around cutely in what was left of the mansions front yard. Even the ghosts who were paying attention were paralyzed.

Dragon Lady wisely decided to take Jims advice and averted her gaze. But she was confused. If this was Jims front yard... Then she wasn't at the Testing Facility anymore and... How...? Then she remembered something extremely cute. It made Dragon Lady dizzy to recall but the fragment of memory did also explain the situation. She understood that her Mawsolaeronix had carried her to another location. She wasn't sure why Mawsolaeronix had brought her here, though. And she really didn't understand why certain other monsters had decided to come along. "What happened to your mansion?" Dragon Lady asked, in the careful tones of someone who rarely speaks this much.

"Had some uninvited visitors. They were using... All sorts of tactics." Jim sighed. He was a touch weirded out by the situation but even so, it was not lost on him that two rejected species had ended a battle that his whole collection had not been able to stop. He was grateful but wasn't sure what else to feel about that. And the attackers... "They had pokemon. They also had pokeballs and tried to capture my pokemon. And they had guns. And lasers. And swords. And axes. And...anvils... And... Uhm. Someone even slapped me with a fish. It doesn't make much sense. I'm not sure if they were actually trying to kill me, offend me or just distract me. But... Hey, why isn't your phone ringing?"

Dragon Lady did a search and failed to locate her phone. Mawsolaeronix tried to look innocent but had eaten or otherwise destroyed her phones in the past, so her accusing scowl did eventually settle on the nearly-a-dragon. However Dragon Lady regarded all of her own pokemon as cute and so she couldn't stay mad.

Jim got the general idea, without needing to be told. He sounded almost as frazzled as he looked. "Have you heard ANY of the latest news?"

Dragon Lady had the expression of someone who sincerely thought Pikadatuffree being free WAS the latest news.

In the carefully ignored background, Pikadatuffree had located a ball of yarn and was batting it around. The surroundings included a mansion that had seen better days, a smoking crater that contained a fried flying type, quite a lot of twitching people and several temporarily blinded pokemon - but the radiant cuteness level was multipled anyway.

Jim sighed again. "Well, if they hadn't blown up my answering machine that would save a lot of time..."

Professor Anita Dayoff was blindfolded, so it had taken her a while to make it this far. And as she staggered around, she was shouting randomly because she wasn't sure who else was nearby. "Who do you fiends work for?! This is Team Rocket territory, you trespassers! Nobody is allowed to defeat the League until I've defeated them!"

The scattered responses were not coherant. Since people were hurt. And paralyzed. And frightened.

"The last report that I heard..." Jim persisted, ignoring the shouting and refusing to turn around. "...was that there's been a robbery at the Museum."

Dragon Lady switched to an expression of concern. "The police?" She asked.

"No, we don't think they did it." Jim said with a yawn. Then he blinked and resumed staring at a fixed point in the distance. "Oh, do you mean are they looking into it?" He waited for the bewildered nod. "Ah. Well, I suppose that makes more sense. Sorry. Am a bit tired. Uhm. The police should be looking into it, of course. It was a robbery. And... Come to think of it, I'm not sure why the police haven't turned up out here."

**ooxoo**

**"W**HERE IS RAINBOW SUNSET?!"

Police all around the globe were in an uproar but the police of the Kanto region felt that they had it the worst. Their ponies were not only restless but also grouchy, frightened and worried. Some of the more naturally nervous ponies had gone full fledged hysterical and were trying to start a stampede by kicking, bucking, snorting and charging all over the place. The police radios were buzzing with communication. So many weird things were happening that the authorities were being called to multiple locations. A train had been derailed. A major battle had been reported in the area of Jims mansion. Emerald City was full of unidentified persons and creatures. Could a girl really be riding around on a baseball bat? Was there some kind of man-eating plant on the loose? Maybe. At least two dangerous pokemon were known to be missing from the New Species Testing Facility. Three, if you counted the Sandwag. Four, if you counted the Vulpersian.

And now there was a report of a robbery at the League Museum, as well.

Without the cooperation and protection of their elemental horses, the police couldn't even begin investigating these reports. But without the leader of the herd... The herd was spooked.

Shiny Migraine was still missing but that wasn't a big deal since the not-so-colorful pony could teleport even when asleep. The herd trusted that Shiny Migraine would turn up again eventually. However Rainbow Sunset had never just wandered off and...

No one could find the pitch black pony. Not by sight or scent. Not by radio communication or psychic searching. Something must have come while the herd was sleeping and... But what could have done this without waking any of the horses? Who could have done this without even leaving a scent trail to follow? And why would anyone capable of stealing a horse at all only take one? And why had they chosen that one, specifically? Were the police going to get a ransom note? Might the thieves return later and try to use the stolen leader of the herd to trick and capture the entire herd?

Did the criminals truly know what they had?

Because the police, they didn't know. The herd, they barely knew. Even the people who had designed and built Rainbow Sunset, they hadn't expected the result they'd gotten. Yet what they'd gotten was no secret.

Rainbow Sunset was pitch black, with a flaming mane and tail. Glowing eyes and curved antlers. Rainbow Sunset had the body art of a clear prism with sunlight streaming in one side and a rainbow streaming out the other. Not all animals had color vision but those who did saw the rainbows for what they truly were - the full visible light spectrum. Humans were the only animals who had decided that rainbows contained no more than seven colors.

Yes. Seven.

Neither the police nor the horses currently realized that. And they might not have known what to think of such trivia even if they had realized. However... With so much noisy worry and protest going on among the land horses, the sea horses had noticed.

Several unique sets of ears, tails and fins broke the surface of a convenient lake.

Lovestruck was still here and even in the dark, she saw them. Mostly because she nearly fell in the lake while trying to avoid her own peers attempts at stampeding. The pink unicorn was relieved that the sea horses were coming up. It was so much easier to speak to them when you didn't have to go underwater. And it was lucky that they were around at all since the sea horses tended to patrol the waterways, going from one lake or river to the next. The sea horses were considered police units and they did sometimes have humans on duty to patrol with them - but the humans did not live in the water. So the sea horses were often left to themselves. Which they didn't mind.

"Did any of you guys see what happened to -?" Lovestruck inquired.

The water rippled with a submerged conference.

Eventually a sea horse raised its trumpet-shaped muzzle into the air. "No. We were not in a position to see what happened to your leader."

Lovestruck was disappointed but had to admit that from underwater, the sea horses probably hadn't had the best view. "Whomever took Rainbow Sunset left without leaving us a scent. But... Did they...?"

If there was a scent on the land, under the ground or in the air then the land ponies should have found it. However... If there was a scent in the water...

"No. We don't have a scent trail in the water either." says a random sea horse. "We did notice a change in the light, though. Is that helpful?"

Lovestruck considers. "Uhm. I'm not sure. What do you mean?"

Another underwater conference.

"There was a crescent moon." Reports the sea horse with the trumpet-shaped muzzle. "An extra one. It was very strange. And..." The creature lifts its whole head above the water, shaking out a mane of long blue tentacles and splashing the water with a wide tail. "...it appears to be gone now."

Most of the humans in the area were too busy listening to their police radios, arguing with each other or trying to reason with the land horses to have noticed this conversation. But if they'd been paying attention then they would have heard Lovestruck saying all her variations on 'clepony' while the sea horses mostly just made watery squealing noises. Communication was different, underwater. The squealing noises had a wide range of meanings, depending on their pitch and timing and... So these animals didn't usually bother to repeat their species names. But the sea horses, they had their own leader.

And then they had Blink.

Who, genetically speaking, was what happened when someone said: doesn't that extinct tentacruel creature look like it should have been a helmet for something else? Tentacruel has a general helmet shape, don't you agree? And it would be very cute as a helmet on a horsea, wouldn't it? And then we'll add... Oh, but we mustn't forget... But what if then... And that's blue as well, so...

It was one of those rare cases where the full species name might be larger than the actual animal. Blink was just easier to pronounce.

The sea horses were as colorful and decorated as their landbased relatives - except for Blink, who was blue. The other sea horses had fancy names but Blink... Was called Blink... Because if you blinked... Then you might miss this creature. Between having the ability to hide in a cloud of ink, being gifted with the ability to be see-through on a whim and just plain being one of the fastest things in the water... It could be a challenge to keep track of this sea horse - unless Blink wanted to be found. And Blink only usually wanted to be found when Blink was showing off.

Speaking to the creatures of the world above the water was exciting enough to warrant Blinks attention once in a while. Although Blink usually ended up doing flips in the water while talking since Blink hated to be still.

Lovestruck turned her attention towards the other sea horses since she regarded them as more reliable. "Thanks for trying to help, anyway. If you think of anything else..."

"Well, we have recently gotten the strange feeling that the world might be ending." says a random sea horse. "Have any of you noticed that?"

**ooxoo**

**"T**urn right, this exit." said the pleasant digital voice of a GPS system in a solar-powered car.

Which was broken.

There was no exit on the right. Not unless you considered falling off a cliff and plummeting into the ocean an exit.

Adam M. Shadow was starting to regret going for a drive. He was beginning to suspect that maybe he should have had the car checked and fully repaired before he'd used it again. He was lost and, being in the middle of nowhere at night, didn't really have anyone to ask for directions. His phone had stopped ringing because there wasn't very good reception here. And... He kept a spare map in the glovebox - since that had come with the car - but...

The glovebox was open and two plump little pokemon were sitting in the passenger seat, happily picking the remains of the map off each other and chewing up the seatbelts. Adam now recalled that this was why he didn't usually let them out of their pokeballs in the car.

Still. With the phone not ringing anymore and the ocean nearby... It was kind of relaxing. Adam was restless but Sunferna had switched off the radio and fallen asleep. Without the plant being awake to power the car... Adam was not only lost, he was in serious danger of being stranded. The solar-powered car would run out of power soon. The coast was scenic but it was cold and dark. His other two pokemon could try to wake Sunferna but they were designed more to work with the potted plant than against it. His pokemon team... Could resist each others attacks fairly well. It made them more effective in battle. It also meant that even outside of battle, they couldn't easily harm each other. Or wake each other up.

Being out in the cold and dark... Being lost... Maybe it should have been a scary experience. Adam M. Shadow wasn't scared. The whole situation felt... Eerily familiar to him. Maybe he'd been cold and lost in the dark before. When he looked up at the sky, the stars... The pinpoints of light against the darkness... He kind of remembered... Seeing them... Closer. A long time ago? The stars had been rushing past a small square window. The memory was tainted with emotions. The feeling of being very small and alone and...trapped.

But that was all.

Things in everyday life could be threatening, insulting, confusing, creepy, boring - but very little was truly scary, anymore. Maybe he'd used up all his fear in the past or something. His memories were about the only things that could frighten him. And his memories were few and far between, coming in flashes and triggered by seemingly random things. Adam M. Shadow didn't understand his own mind. He never knew what might cause a fragment of memory to surface and he didn't have perfect recall. So even the quick flashes of memory that surfaced... They didn't remain clear to him for long. They would gradually fade again.

Adam only had two ideas that he carried around with him constantly and that he always believed. One, that he was a living weapon. And two, that no matter what the future held it would probably never be as scary as the past.

That was just his opinion though.

Having severe amnesia was not great but at times, Adam felt that the amnesia must be there for a reason. He was glad that his subconscious mind was intact since that allowed him to function without the need of constant assistance. However he was also sort of grateful that he was not able to remember more. He didn't like the...vividness...of the emotions that were attached to the few memories that he had. If these...events...had truly happened so long ago... Why did even the disconnected fragments still hurt so much to recall? Adam didn't understand.

Nothing about his memories seemed very clear anymore. So he tried not dwell on it. But he was feeling restless.

And then someone handcuffed him to the steering wheel of the solar-powered car. Adam didn't even flinch. He just scowled and thought of something that had been mentioned earlier. "The tracking devices..."

Sunferna was still asleep. His other two pokemon were now hiding under the seat.

"You should be more careful." said League Champion number five, lighting a cigarette and hopping into the back of the car. She pushed Sunferna to one side so that she could slouch and sprawl across the back seat. Even with a gunbelt carried in plain view, Champion five didn't seem very dangerous. She could be, of course. When she felt like it. Because while the gun was her favorite weapon, it certainly wasn't her only weapon. And she had taken the time to develop good aim.

Adam continued scowling. "Why aren't you at Headquarters?"

"Hmf. All these questions." She smirked and prompted. "You haven't even said hello, yet."

There was another voice that joined the conversation from a different direction. Someone else was approaching the car. "Save the pleasantries. We're late."

Adam was on the verge of explaining in a bored yet irritated tone that first of all, he could break the cuffs and win a fight if he had to. And second of all, the car was not about to go anywhere without waking Sunferna and...

Then he saw what he was up against.

League Champion number two had always set off nearly every alarm in what was left of his brain. Adam wasn't entirely sure why. But her monsters probably had something to do with this. Especially the one that...

An extra crescent moon appeared, low in the sky.

Yea. _That _one.

That one meant regardless of what shape the car was in and regardless of what kind of fight he might be tempted to put up, they were going places. But... Adam was still wearing tracking devices. And if these ladies knew that... And they must know that, since presumably they had located him with the tracking devices. So then... Did they want to be followed?

Were they setting a trap?

_Who would come looking for me?_ Adam found himself wondering.

And then he remembered his fanclub.

And he REALLY hoped it wasn't going to be them.

Oh and for the record, League Champions two and five... Neither of these ladies even had the letter m in their names. Or nicknames. Or in the names of the places that they were from. Gotham City might have been willing to fire Batman just to get League Champion five in residence. And Gotham City criminals had apparently already taken many inspirations from League Champion two. But neither of these ladies were from Gotham City. No. And... Five and two... Those numbers add up, don't they? To seven. Hrm.

What a coincidence.

**ooxoo**

**M**eg was flying along, riding the baseball bat and minding her own business. Still lost. No one had given her a map to the pokemon world. Chosen Ones rarely needed maps anyway. Wise mentors were always lurking around to give them directions.

Or not.

Three incredibly dangerous little girls pull up alongside the baseball bat. In midair. Effortlessly. Flying. By their own power.

Evil Monkey takes one look at them and contemplates leaping to his death. Then he remembers that death does not seem to be helping anyone escape from this story anymore, so he just does his best to hide behind Meg again.

"Uh..." Meg isn't even sure that they're human. They don't appear to have regular hands and their eyes are so big...

"Hi there! We're the Powerpuff Girls!" says the redheaded leader of the group. She wears a hair ribbon, so you can tell right away that she's the brainy one. "I'm Blossom and..."

"I'm Bubbles." giggles the friendly spacey one with blond pigtails.

There is a scowling pause in the introductions. Buttercup is the antisocial one. She is also carrying something. "Here, just take it already!" Buttercup throws a small fishbowl in Megs direction then scowls at her sisters. "Can we go home now?!"

Meg juggles the fishbowl and nearly drops it a few times. "Uhm. What is...?

"We meant to come by sooner." says Blossom, in a tone of mild apology. "But we had the hardest time making him stay put."

The fishbowl contains something which is mangled beyond description. However the turban and cape are clues and so is the fact that the mangled thing has actual button eyes and a tag which says, in very small print: Plush replicas! When you need a decoy in a hurry!

"Uhm..." Meg pokes at a mangled fuzzy seam, which splits and spills cottonballs into the night sky. "...so... you've killed a plush animal... why?"

The Powerpuff Girls take a moment to inspect the mangled plush replica of their nemesis. Who is way too smart of a monkey to want to have anything to do with this story. Or perhaps not smart enough to compete with some of the monkeys who have already made the team.

"... why that -" Buttercup snarls and then flys off with such speed that she is only visible as a beam of green light. She is clearly intent on trying to find and mangle the real thing.

"We'll have to catch up to you later." Blossom smiles nervously, takes back the fishbowl with its mangled contents and then zips off. She is visible as a beam of pink light and is clearly intent on trying to prevent Buttercup from accidentally leveling a city or something during the search.

"Buhbye, Chosen One!" waves Bubbles before departing to follow her sisters. She is maybe intent on just taking a nap since it is past her bedtime or perhaps intent on finding a place to eat ice cream later. And she travels as a beam of blue light. Which means that even though her sisters have a healthy headstart, she could pass them if she wanted to.

Go figure.

**ooxoo**

**V**ector was not feeling one hundred percent himself. He currently had, for example, the urge to say "crocoloslee..." but he also had no clue why. So Vector focused instead on the fact that his headphones were not working. Also, he did not recognize the scenary. Where had the beach party gone?

He was still wearing a grass skirt but it would not come off now. The clothing had fused with his skin. He had a necklace of seashells and tropical flowers in addition to his golden chains and there was a volleyball stuck to the end of his tail. His gloves and boots were ruined because his hands and feet had changed shape to support the claws. Vector was not too thrilled about the claws since he viewed them as a hazard to his health and not likely to benefit his DJ job either. And weird as it was to realize... When he stood up... Vector was even taller than usual. As a crocodile, he'd never had very long legs before. Now he had a set that looked like they'd been borrowed from a martial arts master. And... The ideas for several unique kicking attacks were taking shape in his head. Maybe'd he just been sparring against Rouge too much. She was the kickboxer.

Though... Rouge didn't have a crocodiles tail... so...

The ideas for the new style kept wandering around in his head. Vector was not into fighting that much and currently had no reason to attack anything, so he ignored them.

He was in a forest.

The place didn't look good or bad or terribly interesting, even. The forest seemed old and undisturbed. The ground was dense with trees and all the plants that could grow in the shade. Outside the forest it might be bright and sunny - or it might be the middle of the night. It was hard to tell, from here. There were so many large trees that the sky was blocked from sight. There were so many trees that every direction provided the same view.

When all that you could see around you was the forest, it made the forest seem even larger.

Vector had been close to seven foot tall and now he was taller. He didn't usually feel small. Nor did he often have a problem with seeing which way to go. Even in the dark... He'd spent some of his childhood in swamps. He'd spent a portion of his life being nocturnal. And what his vision didn't cover, his snout more than made up for. He had been in just enough dimensions to know that this planet didn't smell like home. So... Where was it?

The first thing he found - guided by his hearing - was Charmy.

"VECTOR!" The kid bee knocked him over and then started to drag him through the dirt. And Charmy did not have the best night vision so this was not comfortable. In fact, it seemed to involve ricocheting off the trees and going in a rough circle. "WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!"

"...?" Was all that Vector could manage while being dragged.

"THERE IS SOMETHING SERIOUSLY WRONG WITH THIS PLACE!"

Vector twisted, reached into the air, forcefully separated the young bee from his tail, sat up, rubbed his jaw and said. "Calm down a sec, okay?" Vector dusted himself off and patiently folded his arms. "Now... Uh. Why are you wearing a metal headband across your eyes?"

"IT WON'T COME OFF!" Charmy tugged at the light-up visor. He was also stuck with a red shirt. He could have chosen any of the other shirts on the spaceship, really but for some reason he had chosen the red one.

Charmy had probably woken up with the fleeting mental desire to say something like "beeqwilar". The young bee had come through the warp and gained a new set of legs as well. His original set had been replaced with what appeared to be small metal traffic cones, turned so that the point was the foot. From the torso down, the texture of his skin - including the drill feet - had changed. He was covered with small bumps as if to indicate that yes indeed, this insect may have recently taken on additional traits from a puffer fish. And his ordinary stinger had taken on the much more menancing qualities of a serrated needle. Charmy had probably designed parts of this costume himself, to further terrorize the residents of a certain spaceship. But now the costume was not something that could be removed.

_We've been remixed..._ Vector was not as concerned as he'd expected to be. Nor was he sure what he'd expected. While there were changes... They weren't totally inconvenient. He could still function. And some things hadn't changed. He sounded the same. He felt the same, aside from the impulse strike a martial arts pose and then kick something. Charmy might have lost some of his depth perception but otherwise his personality seemed intact. And if these weird transformations could be done so quickly and painlessly then they could be probably also be undone. Somehow. Hopefully also quickly and painlessly. But for now... Until they figured out how to accomplish that...

Vector wanted to calm his friend down, so he pretended to be calm. "What's wrong with this place, aside from the fact that there's no music and it's nowhere near home?"

"I CAN'T GET ABOVE THE TREES!" Charmy zipped into the air to demonstrate this, hit some kind of invisible barrier and crashed to the ground. Which didn't keep him down very long. He bounced off a few trees, landed on Vectors chest and - since he was not big enough to grab Vector by both shoulders at once - grabbed the crocodile by the snout. "AND I CAN'T BREAK WHATEVER THAT IS!"

"That could be a problem." Vector agreed, after prying the bee off his snout. "Hit it again and let me see if I can get a better look at..." Woosh. Zap. Thud. Vector winced. "Nope. Hrm."

He had the strange feeling that he was forgetting something.

Which wasn't a new experience, either. Vector had chosen to develop selective amnesia a long time ago. He'd always forgotten about the bills and the rent and... But this felt a tiny bit more important. Vector tried to sort things out in his own mind first. Casino... Beach party... Forest... Where had he been before all that? Where was he supposed to be next? The transitions from one place to another seemed hazy in his memory.

_To bee or not to bee..._ He found himself thinking.

But perhaps that was because Charmy was dragging him again, which didn't help.

Then Vector caught a scent.

"Hangon a minute. Lets go over there and..." Vector managed to recover control of his movement and went to investigate. He paused at the sight, once he was close enough to see it. "...oh..."

There was a little girl lying on the ground. A human, it looked like. Although... She had some...unique...birthmarks? Her skin... This little girl was black and blue. And she wore an outfit that Vector knew he'd seen on something else. And... Her cream colored pigtails... Were almost longer than her. Why were they called pigtails? Vector did not have any hair so he didn't consider himself an expert on the subject but even to him, the hairstyle that got called pigtails looked more like... rabbit ears...? Wait. Was that even really hair? Where had he seen those before?

Or maybe he was just imagining things.

Little girls... Hrm. A little girl would probably not have a good reaction to being woken up by a large crocodile. Not even a large crocodile stuck in a grass skirt. Vector glanced in Charmys direction - which was constantly changing - and gradually decided that a panicked hyperactive semi-metallic bee was probably not a better option. So Vector did his best not to look like a predator and poked the little girl gently in the shoulder a few times.

The little girl had plastic hair clips on her... Those really did look like ears. Anyway. The hair clips were making noise. Vector didn't understand the noise otherwise he might have heard someone saying: "- sorry. May have inverted parts of..." But Vector also didn't know that he was failing to understand a spoken language, so the noise didn't bother him for that reason. He percieved the hair clips as squeaking and merely wondered if they had been headphones of some sort. Thus he interpreted the squeaky noises as radio static. Which only mildly bothered Vector because he would have preferred music.

He poked at the fallen little girl again, feeling concerned and impatient but still being very careful not to actually cause any damage with the new claws.

She eventually came to, politely muttered some things, blinked a couple times, stretched, sat up, saw Vector, blinked again, screamed, jumped into the air, flapped her long pigtails and flew off. Then she hit the barrier and crashed back to the ground, a few yards away.

Charmy took this as further proof of the situation being very bad and redoubled his already frantic search for an exit.

Other than the scream, Vector hadn't understood anything that the little girl had said. This troubled him. Was his hearing going? Granted, he listened to a lot of loud music and had been through some tough times but... He was only twenty-one. Vector did not consider that it could be a language issue. He'd never before hit a language barrier...

This triggered some strange thoughts. What did a language barrier even look like? Hrm. Maybe...? The barrier in the trees...? No. No. That couldn't be right. That was just... silly. Wasn't it?

Vector returned his focus to other things. He swatted the air a few times with his tail to get the bees attention and tried not to think about volleyball related attacks in the process. "Didn't that human look familiar?"

"NO!"

"Did you even look at her?"

Charmy landed on the crocodiles snout and grabbed him by his eyeridges. "WOULD YOU QUIT WORRYING ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE AND START WORRYING ABOUT US?"

"But she even smelled kinda familiar. Like a bakery..." Vector was sincerely worried about the little girl. He cared about kids in general and her parents didn't seem to be out here - where WERE her parents? what kind of parents just left their kids in the forest? - but he didn't want to approach the little girl now since she might just hurt herself trying to avoid them. And he was trying to gather his thoughts. Was it normal for little girls to fly? Hrm. Maybe? It hadn't actually seemed weird to watch. And she hadn't flown like someone who was new at it, either. "I just can't place it right now..."

**ooxoo**


	11. 5:2

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**5:2**

**A**www. Did you miss Fate and Mythology? Really? But they sort of WERE in the last chapter. It's just that a proper apocalypse, once it gets rolling, is something that has enough momentum to continue on its own without needing to be monitored every second. Hrm. So if Fate and Mythology weren't there the whole time... Then where else were they?

Fate arrives, looking like someone that has been kicked out of a comic convention on costume day and with tears streaming from both eyes. I HAVE SEEN THE PROMISED LAND!

Mythology holds out a tissue box. Uhm. I thought that you just went to do a quick study of commentary since we're supposively commentators now.

Oh, I did. replies Fate. I certainly did. First, I went to America...

The scenary around them goes wavy and we can see a flashback.

_"I CANNOT BELIEVE HE'S GOING TO USE THAT LADDER AS A WEAPON!" exclaims an American commentator. "THIS IS GOING TO BE BOWLING SHOE UGLY!"_

_But isn't that exactly WHY the ladder was put out there? Isn't that exactly WHY you call this event a ladder match? says Fate. You didn't expect for the ladders to fight on their own, did you? No. Really. Were you actually prepared to declare an inanimate object the champion? Is it in fact possible for a ladder to be the official winner of a ladder match? Oh and you know, bowling shoes may not be the height of fashion but they don't deserve to be dragged in to this._

_"Me presta una toalla para limpiar la sangre?" inquires the Spanish commentator. He is sitting behind a broken desk. For some unexplained reason, nine and half times out of ten, the Spanish commentators table is the only piece of furniture that gets broken._

_Se. says Fate, holding out a towel and dialing some emergency numbers. Esta sangrando mucho?_

The professional wrestling match continues, even as this segment of flashback ends. Football and baseball may be among the most popular sports in America but wrestling has always had some of the most interesting commentators. For those who have never watched... The average program involves about an hour and a half of adults wearing costumes and threatening to do grievous bodily harm to each other for vague reasons, twenty minutes of parading to the roped off arena while loud music plays and ten or so minutes of actual rehearsed violence. Whether you regard wrestlers as corny, entertaining or athletic - what is truly amazing is that these people have figured out how to do this for a living. And despite the fact that they may only be in the ring for ten minutes at a time and most of the violence is planned... Their work schedules consume their entire lives and their risk of serious injury is higher than nearly any other sport. If wrestling is fake then why are the multiple knee replacements so real? If these people are just actors then why haven't they been nominated for an oscar? Or nominated for a stunt double? Would the action film industry not be able to compete? Are there not enough stunt doubles to go around?

And then I went to England. says Fate, sniffling at the memory.

The scenary goes swirly and a new flashback starts.

Soccer is undoubtedly the most popular sport in England but with so many fans cheering at soccer games, probably no one can hear those commentators anyway. And while there is absolutely no shortage of unique activities that get classified as sports and televised in Europe... Perhaps the most bizarre commentators in the British dimension are...

_"It's just after sunrise and the winds are calm but as you can see, the meadows have been mowed in a classic checkerboard pattern..." whispers a British commentator in reverant scholarly tones._

_"Aye, lad and yet if ya look closely then ya notice that they be using twenty-seven different types of sod." whispers a Scottish commentator, in the tone of someone who could speak with enthusiasm about every type of dirt known to science in great detail._

_Fate grabs a megaphone. THE SHEEP ARE FIVE MILES AWAY! WHY ARE YOU WHISPERING?!_

The national sheepdog trials continue, while the flashback ends. Yes. They really do televise sheepdog trials. For those who have never watched... The average program can last for days. It will involve several camera crews trying locate a farmer who is standing on a distant grassy hillside, whistling commands. Once in a while - possibly by accident - a camera crew will manage to film a herd of bleating sheep being chased around the meadows by at least one barking blur. However... The way this program is presented - the whole tone of the broadcast - gives the impression that... Even if the sheep had dipped themselves in tie-dye... Even if the sheep were to go past riding on motorbikes while doing their own version of a human pyramid formation and holding up a flashing neon banner that read 'wish ewe were here'... Even if an entire fleet of unidentified flying objects from outer space landed right next to the whistling farmer and then several whistling aliens bounced out to make friends or ask for directions... Even if the sheepdog was totally deaf and had to be given signals by telegram or semaphore... Or if the dog was an overachiever who thought that the whistled commands for rounding up the herd actually meant that it should go down to the shops, run a few errands, chat with the locals, rescue Timmy from the well, sign some autographs, go home to the farm, plow the fields, plant the crops, rescue Timmy from the burning barn, put out the fire, rebuild the barn, sell Timmy to the circus, celebrate, clean the house, have a cup of tea and then leave to teach an advanced college course on the subject of electrical engineering... Then the camera crew would probably still be filming the landscape and the commentators might still be having whispered scholarly discussions about the current weather conditions and the quality of the turf. Isn't that inspired?

Inspired as that may be... When it comes to the undisputed intergalactic award for strange commentary...

Forget sports. Look at gameshows.

A Japanese flag unfurls in the background and waves proudly. Fate salutes it, still with tears streaming from both eyes.

Mythology, now ankle-deep in water, throws away the tissue box and calls an industrial cleanup crew.

It was BEW-tiful! Fate sobs while holding up a paper fan that also has a Japanese flag on it. And then instead of having a flashback, Fate proceeds to try and describe the scene. There was a room! About the size of an apartment! And they put all these bowls on the floor! And some of these bowls might have been made for the Emperor at some point! It was high quality stuff! But these bowls were just put on the floor, side by side so that there was no space between them... And all of these bowls had lids! And so the lids were taken off! And then... And THEN... The KITTENS!

Here, Fate has to pause to take a few steadying breaths. The memory is still fresh and overwhelming. Eventually Fate recovers enough to continue. The KITTENS, I tell you! The cuteness factor was so blatant that they had to have a professional hazmat crew parked outside! And paramedics on standby! And those paramedics, they were busy! At least half the live audience had to be carried out on stretchers after fainting - the cuteness was just too much for them! Because they had all these kittens! And they just let them loose! They spent an entire hour, commercial free, broadcasting a show about sweet adorable fluffly little kittens stumbling around and curling up in bowls! For no apparent reason! And they said the program was to be continued! And... IT EMPLOYED SEVEN COMMENTATORS.

Seven? says Mythology.

Yes. Fate nods as the industrial cleanup crew pulls up in the background. Seven.

A dramatic moment of not-exactly silence since the industrial cleanup crew is arguing about whether the flooding is a serious problem.

Zoom out.

They're in a desert.

So... Fate says, having recovered from being the temporary water source for a tiny but thriving sub-tropical oasis. ...what have you been up to?

Mythology points across the desert. See for yourself.

**ooxoo**

**W**hat kind of parents just left their kids in the forest?

That was probably a dangerous question. Because that, Tails knew, was the kind of question which could lead to more questions. Tails had been found in a forest. Sonic had found him. Life after being found was all that Tails could clearly remember. Which meant that life before being found by Sonic... Tails didn't know.

Yes, you read that correctly. Tails was an unmitigated genius. He'd traveled through time and space. He'd been to other dimensions. He'd met a few other versions of himself. He had friends all over the world. He had a global communications network. He'd earned the respect of inventors everywhere and had been rewarded with special access to guarded information. Basically, between his brainpower and his connections, there were very few things that Tails couldn't either figure out or find out if he needed to. But when it came to his own past - he didn't know.

How had Tails arrived in that forest where Sonic had first found him? Had he lived in a different area to begin with, only to stumble into the forest after much travel and adventure? Or had the forest always been his home? And when Sonic had found him, he'd been alone. How long had the young kitsune survived on his own? Had he always been traveling alone? If not, then who might he have originally been traveling with? When had the separation occurred? What had the circumstances been? Had the separation been accidental or deliberate? Had Tails merely wandered away from his first family? Or had they lost track of each other while fleeing from something?

Were any of his true relatives still alive? If any of his true relatives were still alive then why hadn't Tails found out about them by now? Why hadn't Tails at least heard of them? And perhaps more importantly, why hadn't THEY heard of HIM? There had been plenty of opportunities. Sonic wasn't always comfortable giving interviews so Tails had been a semi-regular feature in the news more than once during past adventures. The young kitsune didn't often seek out the media attention but he didn't mind it, either. The media could be a useful tool. Therefore his situation overall really did beg the question... With global communications so affordable and available... With adventures so frequent... If any members of his family were alive... His parents, especially... Because Tails must have had parents at some point - right? But if they were alive, if they were out there, if they had paid any attention at all to the headlines of the past decade... If they had heard of him, their lost son... Then why hadn't they sought him out?

And the drawback of being an unmitigated genius - especially an unmitigated genius whose best friend has to save the world on a regular basis - was that Tails had come to realize precisely what kind of answers you could expect to such questions. Which was not exactly pleasant. So what Tails had decided, when it came to the subject of his real genetic family, was that maybe he didn't need to know. Maybe he didn't even want to know.

Besides, being an orphan wasn't a terrifically unique trait in this world. Why dwell on it? There were more productive things to do. Inventions to work on, friends and enemies to keep track of and...

Not in the desert, though. Not right here, right now. Here and now it was just the desert, flat and empty. Too empty.

Deserts were not supposed to be this empty. Sure - people tended to imagine the desert as a place of emptiness but in truth the average desert was a rather busy location. The human military, G.U.N, was known to conduct most of their training and nearly all of their experimental weapons tests in deserts. Scientists visited the desert in order to monitor natural forces at work. Athletes came to the deserts in order to compete in a wide array of races and other intensive endurance exercises. Rock concerts and art festivals were held in deserts, tribal rituals were conducted, movies were filmed and ancient relics - sometimes, entire forgotten kingdoms - were discovered. Pirates, bandits, merchants and other assorted outlaws had a long history of making their hideouts or burying their treasures in what they hoped was an isolated place. Ambitious creatures of all sorts had been drawn to the desert to search for those buried treasures. Whole generations had migrated across deserts in their efforts to have a better life and some of them had even found it out on the sand. Therefore a normal desert, a real desert, was a sandbox for the whole world. An area to explore and play in. A barrier to overcome. A place where nearly everyone came expecting to find wisdom, strength and - most of all - solitude but no one was actually guaranteed to find it.

Out here, though... _This_ desert was unique._ This _seemed to be exactly the kind of place that people imagined a desert should be. No roads. No vehicles. No airplanes passing overhead. No people. No robots. No alien tourists pausing to carve their geometrical initials into the landscape. No evidence of outstanding natural wonders or ancient ruins or secretive underground civilizations. Trees were absent, plant life was minimal and the only other animals that Tails had seen thus far were...

Nearby, the Roadrunner is grinning while blurring around and casually kicking a very specific acorn from one foot to another. Sometimes the bird allows the acorn to go bouncing off its head or rolling down its long thin neck. A tiny furry blur is screaming in high-pitched animal gibberish and trying to steal the acorn back, in a wide variety of ways that - of course - all fail.

Tails watched them for a while. He was trying to understand. The tall bird was fast, always smiling, mostly blue and had the right shoes with it. So even though he was starting to have some doubts, Tails continued to think of the tall bird as maybe-Sonic. But the sabertoothed squirrel... Tails shook his head. _There's just no way that can be Sally._ The only reasons that the little creature reminded him of Sally at all were because A) it was a type of squirrel and B) it was obsessed with an acorn. Sally had never been obsessed with acorns, not as far as Tails knew, but her last name was Acorn so... And she had been remarkably tough, all things considered. Yea, persistant was a good word to describe Sally with. But...

What was going on? If these creatures were in fact his friends then he had to try and trust them but... If these creatures weren't his friends... Then what were they? And...

Having vastly more questions than answers was unsettling. Tails wasn't accustomed to feeling this way. Being the genius, he was usually able to figure out what was going on. He was usually the one explaining the situation to others. But right now, it was Tails who was in need of an explanation - and there was nobody around to give him one. The bird and squirrel... The maybe-Sonic and not-likely-to-be Sally... Tails wished that they could at least speak to him. Then again... Given the kinds of answers that they might be able to offer... If the news was nothing but bad... Perhaps the absence of speaking skills was a blessing.

Tails glanced around, trying not to dwell on these ideas.

However the desert was unfamiliar to him. Without landmarks, Tails couldn't get his bearings and without his tools, he couldn't even attempt to construct any landmarks. The desert stretched to every horizon for as far as he could see. There was no end in sight. Not even when he hovered.

Despite this, Tails remained calm. There had to be a way out of this place. There had been a way into the desert so there had to be a way out. That was logic and in spite of recent evidence to the contrary, Tails wanted to believe that the laws of logic probably still applied. So he wasn't too worried. He felt that as long as he kept searching, he was bound to find a way out of the desert eventually. Maybe he had a long walk ahead of him. Perhaps he would have to fly or burrow underground in order to find a way to contact the outside world for help. Possibly he would have to somehow return to the Roadrunners back for another ride - and that was not a thrilling prospect - but if that's what if came down to...

Tails kept looking. He wanted other options. He wanted to get back to the forest. Back to his workshop. Tails felt more in control and more able to be of service to his friends when he was at home in one of his workshops. Out here... Tails wasn't entirely certain what to even think of the strange bird and squirrel, much less what to do for them.

Please take note: a normal child might have been either terrified or elated to be so isolated. Meanwhile a normal animal, even a humanoid animal, would have probably relied on their senses of hearing and smell as much as on their vision. A normal creature of any sort who is abruptly stranded in a desert might consider locating water, food and shelter to be among their highest priorities. Tails did not have these concerns. He wasn't opposed to the concepts of water, food and shelter - he wasn't opposed to the concept of sleep, either - but he had been known to go without all of the above for prolonged periods of time. Especially when on an adventure. Extra especially when working on an invention. When working on an invention, his concentration was such that Tails could - and had and often did - work for days and nights on end without taking a break. He'd managed this type of stunt repeatedly. Never collapsing or needing to be hauled off for medical attention. Yet Tails didn't view his ability to survive on sheer willpower alone as an unusual talent. Hunger and thirst and pain, those were just distractions. Ignoring such distractions had never been too challenging for Tails.

Because, no matter how much Tails might prefer to think about math and science and mechanics... He was a creature of lore.

Which wasn't an idea that Tails cared to dwell on. Not consciously. He was aware of it, yes. On some level, he'd always been aware of it. How could he not be aware of it? Yet Tails resisted it. So even though he could rotate his twin tails and fly - which was a feat that required more alterations to his skeleton than a mere genetic mutation could explain - and even though he could normally pull a wide range of objects out of thin air... Even though he had the ability to survive on sheer willpower alone... Every indication was there but... No. Tails just wasn't going to think about it. He didn't want to think about it.

So Tails thought about his adoptive parents, instead. Sonic and Sally. In Tails humble opinion, those two had often gotten along better when they weren't working directly with each other. The kitsune had never enjoyed having to choose between his friends and take sides but when Sonic and Sally had worked directly together, that had almost always happened. Being raised in a warzone by two kids who didn't always get along with each other and who were frequently out on missions... Yea, that had not always been fun. Sometimes Tails had felt like the only child of this odd not-a-couple, with each parent competing for his whole attention. But sometimes - since technically none of the villagers had been old enough to even pretend to be a parent to him - Tails had regarded both Sonic and Sally as elder siblings and he'd felt like the youngest child in a sitcom. More often he'd felt like an answering machine or a diplomat trying to negotiate peace. Still. The fact remained - Sonic and Sally... They'd taken him in, protected him, given him a place to live and a reason for living. Plus somewhere between Sonics aerospace engineering skills, Sallys computer savvy, Rotors general inventiveness and a physical half-robot being in residence... Tails had been born with lore anyway. Being raised in the hidden village had merely provided him with the education needed to focus that lore in a new direction. A modern, scientific direction.

During the so-called Great War, the bulk of the fighting had been against evil robots. At the hidden village, their main enemies had been evil robots. Most of their friends had been at high risk of being turned into evil robots. So the need for mechanical geniuses had been apparent. Tails had seen the need and had filled it. Mechanical geniuses could find ways to destroy - or at least deactivate and reprogram - robots without having to fight them. Which had usually saved both time and lives. And when the war had finally ended, when the hidden village group had split... Tails would of course always respect Sally but he had chosen to follow Sonic. For many reasons. Sonic was the one who'd found him. Sonic was the optimist. And Sonic was the adventurer, the risk taker. Hence Sonic had, in Tails view, seemed more vulnerable. Sally was better at planning things. Sally was more cautious. She wasn't as likely to end up in weird situations that required the help of an unmitigated genius to get out of.

Although... Her father...

Tails knew that Sallys father being banished to another dimension wasn't his fault - that had happened before he'd even known Sally - but Tails felt guilty anyway. Because he didn't know who else to blame for the problem not being resolved. And he didn't know if there was a nice way to explain to Sally that there were possibly infinite amounts of alternate dimensions and so even with a working interdimensional gateway... If you had a phone book for a major city but didn't know the name or address of the person that you were trying to call then having the phone book might not help much. And calling every listed number in that phone book might take several lifetimes. Or more. And doing that still wouldn't guarantee that you would find who you were looking for. It was like that. Having a working interdimensional gateway would not necessarily make it easier to figure out which dimension someone had been banished to. Honestly. The lottery had better odds. Therefore Tails generally avoided Sally these days. Because Tails felt that, to a certain degree, he had failed Sally. Because he hadn't been able to locate and rescue her father. He had tried, he'd really tried. But eventually, like everyone else in the village, Tails had given up.

Being the genius, it was hard not to take personally.

Some days Tails was more than tempted to just build a time machine. If he could somehow prevent the whole war from ever starting then... But that would create a paradox, wouldn't it? A loop. A contradiction. If Tails altered the past in order to prevent the war then he would never meet Sally. If he never met Sally then he would never need to build a time machine to prevent the war. The time machine could undo the reason for its own existence - yet it would still need to exist. This was a headache, even for someone with Tails considerable brainpower.

Besides, if there was no war... Then would Tails have ever met Sonic? Or anyone else? What if...? Even the other versions of himself that he had met - Tails couldn't remember if any of them had not known Sonic. It hadn't seemed likely. In his heart, it didn't seem possible. His adopted big brother, his hero and best friend... Sonic had saved and raised him. Sonic had educated and influenced him. If any version of Tails existed that didn't know Sonic... Then... Then... Well. It probably wouldn't be like meeting another version of himself. It would be like meeting a complete stranger that he had very little common with.

Tails didn't dwell on that. No. He didn't even try to imagine. He'd never spent much time trying to imagine what the world had been like, before the war. He had grown up during the war. He was a product of that environment. It was all that he'd known. Life hadn't always been great but Tails felt... Attached... To what he'd known. He hadn't invested a great deal of effort into picturing a different life for himself. No war... Would that have meant living in a world at peace? Not being a mechanical genius? Not being raised by creatures of other species? Would he have only known other kitsunes? Might he have grown up in a city or temple or something instead of a forest? Would he have still been the only child? Would he have still been the youngest?

He had been the youngest at the hidden village. The others... They hadn't talked about their losses very much. Maybe they hadn't wanted to dwell on the hurt and worry. Hadn't wished to share how they had ended up separated from their own families. Or maybe they had blocked the trauma out of their minds, in order to function. Sally had been the exception. Sally had spoken on these types of subjects once in a while to motivate her friends and remind them all of what they were fighting to recover but... Tails had noticed that all six of the residents in the village, himself included... They had been quite the mismatched bunch. Each villager had been a different species. Each had been, Tails suspected, originally from a different part of the world. Each of them had their own ideas and beliefs and talents and... Such a mismatched group. Yet they'd all ended up together, stuck in the same fight. And while over the course of time, the friendships had grown... Even the most talkative of the villagers hadn't talked much about some things. So...

But instead of dwelling on family or worrying about friends or feeling much concern about the world maybe ending, the young kitsunes brain naturally reset to a state that had allowed him to flourish. Because Tails might not have survived his childhood in the hidden village if he'd ever been overly depressed about his situation or worried for his friends or just flat out waiting for the world to end. And being an unmitigated genius meant that he could almost always think of something to invent. And being a creature of lore... Even if he didn't define himself that way... Meant that his whole attention... When he thought about mechanical things and worked on inventions... Yea, it sometimes made him feel valuable and needed and all the rest. But mostly... When Tails thought about mechanical things and worked on inventions, it prevented him from feeling other things. He rarely felt hungry. Or thirsty. Or tired. Or lonely. Or sad. Or angry.

He could ignore almost anything.

Not Sonic dying, though.

Tails was aware that this was abnormal. The terrible memory of Sonic being dead... Tails had been on that adventure. That had been an alternate timeline. Maybe even an alternate universe. And they'd fixed it, anyway. They'd undone those events. So... If the death had never happened... Then why did the kitsune still remember it? And...

And the whole problem with being an unmitigated genuis was that Tails knew the answer to that, as well.

They hadn't undone the events. Not really. Not properly. The adventurous group of heros had thought that they'd undone the events - but no. Tails had been too emotional to think of this while the events were actually happening but later, when he had recovered enough to look back and analyze the adventure in his mind, he understood with clarity. They couldn't have undone things properly. Because Sonic had died. And then, thanks to their efforts, Sonic had been reincarnated. Which was illogical. Wrong. Didn't make sense. Because if the events had been properly undone then there _shouldn't have been any need_ to reincarnate. If the death had been undone truly and correctly then Sonic would have just been alive - poof. Like that.

Not even alive _again_, just alive _still_.

That was a big difference! It was the difference between 'never killed' and 'killed once'. That was significant! And the memory of that death would have also been undone, in everyone who saw it. But... Tails still remembered. And Tails knew he wasn't the only one. Sonic... Tails had not let his best friend out of his sight for a while after that particular traumatic adventure and had gotten the disturbing impression that the blue hedgehog had, perhaps, retained some fragmented memories of what it was like to be dead. Which meant that the future might still need to be fixed. But even trying to do that would probably create some kind of paradox, too.

Then a terrible thought occurred: what if this WAS the paradox? If any part of time could get stuck in a loop... Was this the loop? Was there any way to tell for sure? And if this was the loop then how to fix it? How to break the cycle?

Off in the distance, the Roadrunner continued to cheerfully play acorn-keep-away. The prehistoric saber-toothed squirrel tried in vain to reclaim its prize.

Tails, having been outside his workshop and stranded in various deserts for a considerable amount of time, watched them and began to wonder if it was somehow his fault that his friends had changed species. Was this some sort of bizarre ripple side effect from time travel? Had someone been trying to repair the past? Or had someone gone back to the future?

The future...

Tails had plans for the future. Not romantic ones, either. He was twelve. He wasn't interested in romance. Romance was, in Tails mind, just another distraction to be ignored. He had other plans. It wasn't a secret or anything. Tails was a sidekick. He'd spent his life doing an incredible job of making the other heros look even more heroic and emphasizing - or at least explaining - the impending danger. All while providing a fairly reliable assortment of gadgets to help save the world. He had followed and kept tabs on Sonic for as long as he could remember. Maybe longer. And during their adventures, Tails had witnessed and experienced most of the hazards in the heroing business. Up close. Yet in spite of knowing the risks and understanding the burdens... In spite of being an intelligent, sensible and peaceful creature... His loyalty to his friends had never waivered and his greatest ambition had never changed.

He had been found by Sonic. He looked up to Sonic. He admired Sonic. He'd followed Sonic. And someday, Tails had always thought to himself, he was going to be the hero. Just like Sonic.

Oh child, says Fate, didn't anyone ever teach you to be careful what you wish for?

Mythology hardly even needs to do any math, in this place.

Tails doesn't notice Fate. And he's never been all that interested in Mythology. But the desert around Tails - for this was indeed a unique location - reacted to them. The changes were subtle at first, with minimal wisps of swirling colorful sand and dreamy vagueness. Because, you see, this desert was a mythical place. The Dream Time. And as the dreams persisted, the shapes that they projected gradually became more solid. The colors more vivid. The Roadrunner watched and waited with its constant casual grin. The sabertoothed squirrel paused in mid-assault to twitch and gawk. A whisper of upbeat rock music is carried across the sand on a warm breeze. The opening line of the perfect theme song for Team Lore.

_You can do it!_

Tails doesn't hear this music, it's too faint. And his focus was inward, so Tails doesn't notice the growing changes in the surrounding landscape. Instead he is contemplating what it means to be a hero. Because Tails didn't really think of himself as a hero right now. He'd never really regarded himself as a hero. Sonic was the hero and Sonic was cool. Being an unmitigated mechanial genius with abnormally high levels of success and endurance wasn't the same as being cool, right? Deep down, Tails didn't think so. His own talents were, in his own mind, mundane.

Except... His name. His real name. His birth name. Miles Prower.

That was NOT mundane.

_Until the break of dawn... Life, life - cannot go by the letter..._

Where had the name come from? Sonic hadn't named him that. Sally hadn't named him that. His friends had learned his full name and had quickly noted the word pun that it contained - miles per hour, how appropriate for the best friend of the fastest creature alive - but they had not given him the name. Basically everyone that Tails knew had always called him by his popular nickname. Most of the creatures who knew Tails didn't even know that he had another name - they just called him Tails. But Tails had always known and that bothered him. Who would name a kid Miles Prower? Why would anyone name a kid Miles Prower? Why should he be able to remember his name but not the creatures who had named him? What kind of parents...

_...original prankster..._

Tails did not want to dwell on this - but he knew. Or thought that he knew, anyway. Because the name... Tails understood. Miles Prower - that wasn't just a name. That wasn't just a word pun. That was a clue. And... Tails hadn't admitted this to anyone. He didn't even like to admit this to himself. But he was a genius and his own name was a clue. So yes, he'd figured it out. Eventually. Sort of. He had a theory. It was just a theory. Tails didn't know if he was correct. He hadn't ever tried to prove that he was right about this. He wasn't certain that he ever wanted to try and prove that he was correct, in this instance. But the idea, once he'd grasped it, had made so much sense... That it frightened him.

_...knock down the walls, it's alive in you..._

Tails wondered if Sonic had ever been afraid of being right. He didn't dwell on that idea for very long. He didn't want to dwell on it. He couldn't dwell on it.

Hey Team Lore, your time is...

NOW. says Mythology.

NOW! cheers Fate.

The Roadrunner heard them. The bird might have shrugged but it didn't really have the shoulders for such a gesture so instead it just meeped and - while wrapped in the soft glow of an inner chaos emerald - did an impressive leaping kick in dramatic slow motion. Both the acorn and the prehistoric squirrel were sent twisting sharply through the air. The squirrel landed some distance away and flat on its face which was quite a stunt considering the length of its teeth. Meanwhile the acorn... Slammed, point-first, into Tails.

"Hey!"

Despite the impressive visual effects that had accompanied the acorn, the attack does not appear to have done much harm. Tails stood there. He was mildly annoyed. The acorn had bounced off his chest and then dropped to the ground. The attack had gotten his attention and that was about all. He wasn't even defining what had happened as an attack. He hadn't even tried to block or sidestep. It was just an acorn! He didn't even hesitate to reach down... Maybe he intended to pick the acorn up, maybe even throw it back...

Tails blinked. He paused in mid-reach. He blinked again. He straightened up. He looked around. He started to notice all the recent changes in the landscape. He started to notice all the vague shapes that loomed in the swirling colorful sand. Where had those come from?! How long had those been there? What was...

Abruptly Tails dropped to his knees. He clutched at his chest with both hands. He got a double handful of orange and white clumps. He stared at the clumps with rapidly increasing horror and disbelief.

His fur!

Tails pressed his hands against him in a misguided attempt to keep even more of his fur from falling away. He didn't know what else to do. He wasn't thinking very clearly - but he did have a lot on his mind. This shouldn't be happening! This didn't make sense! He was in good health! And it was just an acorn! A regular little acorn! Being hit by an acorn shouldn't have this kind of effect! Even in slow-motion, the attack hadn't taken long! The impact hadn't hurt! It hadn't even thrown him backwards or anything! Why was there a bruise now?! How could this be happening?!

And then, such a quiet sound... Hardly even a sound at all. The sound that a single feather makes when it softly drifts to the ground. The breath of an insect. It was in that range. Not a sound that is normally heard, in other words. But because this desert was so empty... And since the band called Offspring had finished their song, packed up and left... This precious tiny sound was audible.

Tails has large ears. He heard the sound. It was close by. So on reflex, he turned to see what had caused the sound.

One of his tails had fallen off. As he watched, the other tail followed suit.

Tails was now tail-less.

The kitsunes brain - which was a formidable weapon, in its own right and which had been valiantly attempting to rationalize the whole situation - was not prepared to cope with this. His mind desperately continued to try and rationalize his situation but he was starting to go into shock. Which was perhaps just as well since the shock had a numbing effect.

And what Tails did not realize was this: the mark on his skin was not a bruise. It was the tell-tale beginnings of an ominous dark crack. And as the crack grew and spread, cobwebbing outwards across his skin and accelerating the shedding... Intense beams of bright light began to shine outwards. From within.

Because the Roadrunner was a bird, it recognized that a new creature was hatching. After meeping excitedly for a while and watching from a safe distance, the tall blue bird zipped over and leaned down to helpfully peck at the crumbling outer shell. This worked but not very quickly. Impatient, the bird used a large orange two-toed foot to pry the central crack even further open. This allowed the Roadrunner to reach down into the brightness and pick up the glowing newborn in its beak. With it's passenger secure - and an angry saber-toothed squirrel clinging to a drooping tailfeather since the Roadrunner had eaten the acorn, after kicking it - the Roadrunner jumped into the air, wiggled its toes and was gone.

Some people think that newborns are delivered by storks. Maybe that is true, for normal creatures. But creatures of lore always have to be different.

**ooxoo**

**A** tall skyscraper in a city. There is a large sign, all flashing neon and polished chrome, centered on the building. Even in the dark, this sign is easy to read and it reads: Doofenschmirtz Evil, Inc. Yes, the building is clearly labeled and the label includes the word Evil. No, that never seems to concern the neighbors. Or the police. Or anyone else, for that matter. In fact the usual neighbors are probably quite fond of the catchy upbeat theme music. But today... Here... Instead... There were just a few snatches of Beethoven lingering in the sky.

There is a balcony near the top of the skyscraper. The balcony door creaks open. A scrawny man peers out, he's wearing a lab coat and has the look of a practiced insomniac. "Hey, that wasn't my regular theme music!"

Now the man pauses, squints at the scenary, goes indoors for a moment, comes back out to the balcony with some night-vision goggles and uses them to have a look around. "Hey! This isn't the tri-state area!"

The man lowers his night-vision goggles and takes on a thoughtful pose for few long moments, one hand resting under his pointy chin. He has no idea where this place is. He has no idea how he got here. What could have happened? Eventually, he reaches a conclusion. Just being in this type of situation has to count as some kind of a defeat. The man shrugs to himself, yawns, rubs his eyes, grimaces and then carefully raises a clenched fist. "Curse you, Perry the Platypus!"

With that said the man stomps his way back inside, slamming the balcony door behind him and grumbling sleepily.

Then it occurs to him that this might not be just a different city.

What if it was a whole different world?

The man pauses, waking up slightly further and turning on his heels to face the windows again as the idea fills him with a mix of panic and dread. Some of the things that he'd seen with the night-vision goggles choose this moment to register in his brain, presenting the proof. The city that he came from did have animals - intelligent, dangerous, secret agent animals - but not animals like THAT and... Some of the vehicles out there were wrong, those didn't exist in his world... And music wasn't supposed to actually be visible, was it?

Hrm. If his eyes were not just playing cruel tricks on him... If this wasn't just a bad dream... If that world out there was truly not his home... Then... Could that mean that Perry the Platypus might not exist, in this place? That would be good news, right? If the blue platpus wasn't here then nobody could stop this man from... Wait. Correction. Come to think of it, the blue platypus being absent had never prevented this mans schemes from failing horribly and violently backfiring on him as much as possible. In the past this guy had been defeated by such things as a baking soda volcano, an extremely large ball of tin foil, a potted plant, a cardboard cutout of his nemesis, a bobblehead replica of his nemesis and... Well. Yeah. It was embarrassing. Being defeated by his actual nemesis was at least sort of respectable. If the blue platypus not around, this guy could lose to pretty much anything. He could be defeated by little girls in scout uniforms who were selling boxes of cupcakes. He could be defeated by people singing christmas carols. Given the opportunity, he could be defeated by his own shoelaces.

Heinz Doofenschmirtz tries to recall if he has in fact already been defeated by his own shoelaces at some point in his life.

_Probably..._ He realizes, with a frustrated sigh.

He was not a fully official evil doctor. Heinz had been flunked out of his Evil 101 class and had left college without graduating. He'd been close to graduation but had never completed his course of study. Therefore he'd never gotten his diploma. He could have had a doctorate and then it would have been correct to call him Dr. Doofenschmirtz, Professor of Evil but he hadn't, so it wasn't. Though if anyone ever made the mistake of calling him a doctor, Heinz did not go out of his way to correct them. He had even bought some fake diplomas off the internet just to hang on the walls of his lab.

It was amazing what you could buy off the internet.

Anyway. That technicality aside... Heinz does have many of the other classic qualifications for a struggling evil genius: the large nose, the perpetual bad hair day, the distinctive nasally whine, the accent, the extremely traumatic childhood, the unrelenting theme of failure, the desire to seek some kind of revenge, quite a lot of imagination, not so much fashion sense and the ability to build his inventions. Also the ability to survive his inventions violently backfiring on him as much as possible.

And a nemesis. He had a nemesis. Perry, the blue platypus. That was his nemesis.

Having a nemesis was just about the nicest thing that had ever happened to Heinz. True, he was on civil terms with his wealthy ex-wife and that was important because these days she more or less funded all of his experiments. And having a daughter was awkward but not terrible. His daughter, his precious little girl... She was already a polite law-abiding teenager who happened to dress like the lead guitarist of a goth-punk rock band and oh, yes, she was popular. Heinz had never been popular, despite his best efforts. Thus he couldn't relate to his daughter and he didn't always understand her but he did cherish her, anyway. Much to her polite dismay. Because Heinz didn't usually treat his daughter like a teenager. No, he was determined to treat her as if she were a little girl. A very girlie little girl. His daughter would always be a little girl, as far as Heinz was concerned and besides, reenacting those days of early parenthood was about as close to happiness as he could get. His own childhood had been so utterly miserable that he felt oblidged to cling to his daughters childhood instead.

Still. The platypus was definitely the best thing that had ever happened to him. Certainly the platypus was the best thing that had ever happened for his career. Because just having a nemesis meant that someone was taking you seriously. They wouldn't bother trying to stop you, if they didn't take you seriously in the first place - right? If someone was always trying to stop you... Then you must be really evil, right? You must be a threat. That validation, in Heinzs opinion, was even better than having a diploma.

Unless his nemesis failed to show up. Because if having a persistant rival was basically all that made you an official evil person then, of course, not having a rival made you... Nothing? Average? A failure, again?

Heinz continued to gaze towards the window, muttering to himself. What was going on here? Could this be some sort of eleborate trick? New dimensions didn't just crop up overnight. Not in his experience. Well.. Okay. Nevermind. So new dimensions had cropped up overnight, once or twice. But even so... Could the platypus really have sent him to another dimension? Perhaps. But would the platypus have done such a thing? And without even saying goodbye?

Or.. What if Heinz was here by accident? Did his rival know that he was here? If Perry didn't know... Would the platypus miss him? Would the platypus get in trouble? Might the platypus actually be in some kind of danger? Heinz was geniunely concerned. He valued having a rival and besides, he liked Perry. Animals had never treated Heinz very well but they had, overall, still treated him better than most humans. And Perry had always been such a considerate rival, so understanding. Being evil was a lot of work. Sometimes Heinz would been running low on inspiration or was behind schedule with construction - and Perry had pitched in to get things done. More than once Perry had helped him to finish a scheme. Granted, Perry would always promptly defeat him once the scheme was finished but even when Perry defeated him... The platypus was careful. Heinz was almost never given serious injuries or left with his life in danger or anything like that. Perry had rescued Heinz nearly as often as he'd defeated him. If what they had wasn't friendship then it was, at least, professionalism. An understanding. They both needed a nemesis. For job security.

"Maybe I should try calling him..." Heinz fidgets and goes in search of a phone. He didn't particularly care for being in a new dimension. He would have appreciated some warning, anyway. Because if this was a new world... If he didn't know anyone out there... Then he also didn't know who he could trust. And he wouldn't be able to visit his daughter. Or get money from his ex-wife. That was a problem. Plus all of the people that he wanted revenge on and all of the people that he felt he had to prove himself to - what if none of those people were in this dimension? Was there any point in proceeding with his evil schemes? How could he conquer the tri-state area if there wasn't even a tri-state area anymore? Was he just supposed to settle for conquering the world instead? But that was so cliche! And what if Perry wasn't here? Would Heinz be able to find another rival, even temporarily? The mere thought of seeking a replacement made him sad but... He couldn't be considered evil without a rival, could he? No. Probably not. Having a rival was likely to be a universal requirement for being evil.

Heinz located a phone but it wasn't in working order. He thought about building himself a new phone. He went to his computer to order some obscure parts off the internet and then noticed that his computer was in working order. So he had access to the internet, anyway. Hrm. Maybe he didn't need to build a new phone then. What should he build instead?

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to threaten this world. Just for a while. Just until he found his way back home. After all - what else was he supposed to do? Granted, he wasn't very accomplished at being evil but he didn't want to get out of practice. Not again.

Heinz had not been evil for his whole life. After flunking Evil 101 in college, he had completely given up on his ambition to become evil for a several years and had worked a wide range of other jobs without finding any lasting happiness or success. He'd only returned to his full time pursuit of evilness after becoming a parent. Go figure. Despite this, a list of his inventions would not be short. Heinz tried to have something new on hand every day or at least every week. He'd built all kinds of machines. Lasers that zapped people and made them look the other way. A translating device that had accidentally made it possible for a whale to steal one of his girlfriends from him. Once he'd even managed to summon a geniune horde of ancient mongolian warriors into his lab - he'd been trying to summon an army of spartan warriors but still...

All of his inventions had only two things in common. First, the results were never quite what Heinz intended. Thus even when a machine sort of worked... Even when an invention didn't just catch fire, blow up, fall apart or disappear after being activated... Heinz was hesitant to use any of his inventions more than once. Some of his inventions, he'd hesitated to use them even once. A few of his inventions, he'd thrown away the keys and remote controls for them - but the strange machines had still found a way to violently backfire as much as possible on him. So no, Heinz didn't quite trust his own inventions. His own inventions were out to get him. Despite this, he kept building new ones. Anyway. The second trait that all of his inventions had in common was the suffix. His first invention ever had been called The Inator. Heinz was proud of that machine - it had hardly backfired at all, really - and so all of his inventions since then had the suffix '-inator' attached to their names. Even the Notan-inator, which had been a rare attempt to break the habit.

Some inventors need blueprints before they can start building. All that Heinz Doofenschmirtz needed for a starting point was a name. He could build anything. What should he build?

An apple fell from above and bonked him right on the head.

"OW! Huh? Where did that come from?!" Heinz clutched his head, blinked at the ceiling which offered no answers and then decided to hide under his desk in case more fruit attacked. Once safely crouched beneath his desk, he glanced around for the apple. It was nowhere to be seen.

What kind of wacky dimension was this?! Did the weather in this place include grocery storms or what? Now there was an idea... And if Heinz could think it then he could build it. But before he could build it, he had to name it. So what to call such a weird machine? Custom-weather-inator? Apple-storm-inator? Instant-fruit-salad-inator? No, no. None of that seemed quite right. Not very creative. Wouldn't impress anyone.

The city outside his building, he'd hadn't recognized it. These weren't familiar surroundings. This was not home. This was a new place. If he was going to continue his pursuit of evilness then... Heinz wanted to make a strong first impression. He wanted the citizens of this place, good and evil alike to understand that he...

Ooo. Wait. Yea. That could be a snag. What if this dimension already HAD other evil citizens?

Heinz cautiously came out from under his desk, stood, stretched, blinked, scratched lightly at his chin and then at his nose while he paced. He didn't mind threatening this new world but he recognized that doing some research first might be wise.

Exhaling a discouraged sigh, he returned to his seat and slumped in front of the computer. He'd used a computer dating service once and, as a result of that experience, had discovered that quite a diverse array of people liked to describe themselves as evil. Including people who weren't really evil, in his opinion. Weird, yes. Evil, no. Therefore searching for any resident evil... Well. It might not be wise but maybe he should just built the new machine and attack. If his assault happened to anger some local villain then at least when they counter attacked, he would know that they were legit.

But what to call the machine? The Applesauce 5000-inator? An-apple-to-actually-keep-any-doctors-away-inator? Revenge-of-the-Granny-Smith-inator? Fruitamin-inator? If-Life-Gives-You-Lemons-inator? Cloudy-with-a-chance-of-meatballs-inator?

With the same abruptness as the apple had come and gone, another idea took shape. An idea for a name. Simple and profound. Why not just call this new machine The Most Awesome and Important Invention Ever, Inator? That sounded good, didn't it? That would impress the locals, right? And who could argue the point? Plus with a name like that... If Perry the Platypus was anywhere in this dimension, he'd be bound to come and investigate.

The Most Awesome and Important Invention Ever, Inator... Hrm. That was a mouthful. He'd certainly use the full title when announcing the invention to others but for around the labs... It needed a shorter name. Maybe he could make an acronym...

Watch this, whispers Fate.

Mythology, who is wearing a lovely new scarf made of geniune kitsune fur, just smiles.

Heinz continues contemplating. The **M**ost **A**wesome and **I**mportant **I**nvention **E**ver... M.A.I.I.E-Inator? No, no, no. Too many vowels. The acronym would be easier to remember and pronounce if he tweaked it a bit. Hrm. What about **M**ost **A**wesome and **R**eally **I**mportant **I**nvention **E**ver? M.A.R.I..

As he thinking about this, Heinz idly taps his fingers against the keys on his keyboard. His fingers slip and he makes a slight typo.

Ding.

A new message appears on the computer screen.

"Downloading the diary of Gerald Robotnik? What?! But how did...?" Heinz doesn't bother to hide his confusion or his surprise but he can't linger on it. Something else is demanding his attention. "Robotnik? Huh. Name like that, the guy could have been a neighbor."

Heinz blinks, frowns and assumes a thoughtful pose. He spends a distracted moment fidgeting in his seat, humming fragments of obscure gameshow themesongs and trying to recall if Robotnik HAD actually been the name of any of his neighbors. Heinz had been forced - bullied by his own family - into spending a significant portion of his young life acting as a lawn gnome. So he'd seen the neighbors on a regular basis. He hadn't been permitted to speak with them or anything but he had seen them, at any rate. Robotnik... The name did sound familiar to Heinz but right now he wasn't a hundred percent sure of where he'd heard it before.

Ding.

The download was complete.

Heinz leans forward to take a closer look at the file that just opened. "Huh. Ultimate lifeform... ultimate weapon... ultimate coffee cup..." Heinz leans back. "And people call ME obsessed! Hmf." He squints at the screen again. "How many ultimate...?"

Several pages of neatly typed text scroll by. Heinz sits back in his chair, puts his feet up and folds his arms, scowling as he concentrates. He wasn't typically a serious type of person but this had the potential to be a serious occasion.

As far as Heinz could tell... Gerald Robotnik, whomever that was, had been either brilliant but twisted or just plain crazy. Practically everything on this list was referred to as an ultimate. So either 'ultimate' had just been Gerald Robotniks favorite word to label things with and he had labeled a considerable number of things or... Maybe...

What if...?

"Nah." Heinz shook his head as if to dislodge the idea. He relaxed, chuckled to himself, tapped a few keys, closed the diary and went back to the internet.

It couldn't be_ that _easy. Nothing was ever_ that _easy. Cripes, if it was that easy then the natives of this dimension... Well. Judging from the city outside the natives were still here and thriving, so presumably they had figured it out. They must have figured it out.

**ooxoo**

_**A**__nd who will sa-aa-ve your soul, when it comes to the flowers now?_ sings a voice on a radio. _Who will sa-aa-ve your soul, after all those lies that you told boy?_

Yet as much as Rouge likes jewels, the musician called Jewel wasn't her style. "Isn't there anything better on?"

"Hangon..." Amy Rose timidly fiddled with some buttons.

The most awesome professional race car in the multiverse is skidding around in a desert. Rouge did realize that a phrase including the words 'driven like a bat out of heck' might apply but she scowled at that thought. She wasn't a bad driver and right now, she wasn't driving. The vehicle was still flashy golden with red headlights. Having any control of the steering at all was a fight. Rouge had used more than a few creative terms during the struggle just to get this far.

And they hadn't actually gotten that far.

The girls could have abandoned the Batmobile, returned to the military base and borrowed a different vehicle. But they were both, for mostly separate reasons, reluctant to abandon the car. Rouge felt that the vehicle was hers, that Mecha could repair or reprogram it once the world was saved and that - on the more practical side - probably nothing on a military base looked this good or could do as much as this vehicle seemed capable of doing. Meanwhile Amy Rose simply didn't like to abandon anything that she considered a friend. Extra especially not a friend who might someday provide her with a way to catch Sonic. Besides, the car liked the name Jewel. And they were Team Jewel. It just wouldn't be right to abandon the car. That would mean having to find another team mate and renaming the team and... You couldn't change teams in the middle of an adventure! It just wasn't done.

Amy pauses her search with the radio dials. She's found one of those places in the wavelengths where not one but two stations seem to be coming in semi-clearly.

_Living in a material world - And I am a material girl..._ sings a lady who is so famous that she doesn't need to be mentioned by name.

_Can't read my, Can't read my... No he ca-an't read my po-o-ker face..._ sings another lady who might be even more famous than that by now.

The music meshes together rather nicely but Rouge is not impressed. She reaches for the radio controls. "Let me - "

Her words were drown out by the noise of several thousand warped and slightly melted gold coins abruptly slamming into and bouncing off of the already golden car. Rouge returned her full attention to fighting with the steering. Amy yelped and braced herself as the turbulance of their ride increased. The Super Batmobile spent the next several minutes lost in a clattering, scraping, clinking, pinging swarm. The windshield cracked in several places but did not shatter. The body of the car gained so many dents and scratches that its formerly sleek surface began to have the texture of a golf ball. Yet the vehicle continued to swerve across the sand at reckless speeds.

By the time the car emerged from this strange variation on a hailstorm, the radio was picking up a different station.

_Go on, take the money and RUN._ advises The Steve Miller Band.

Rouge switched the radio off and twisted in her seat, glaring backwards over her shoulder. Her mind and heart were both racing. Her wide ears were pinned back but still ringing. She was mentally calculating the damage to the car even as she took some calming breaths. Rouge wasn't fond of surprises, especially not noisy surprises. Money falling out of the sky? Rouge had never even heard of such weather! Even with all the unstable magical fields and weird inventions in their world - money didn't just fall out of the sky. That wasn't normal. Those had been coins, right? She hadn't just been imaging things? Where had the money come from? Where was it going? What did it mean? Was it safe to get out of the car? Could the car be persuaded to stop? Would they be able to go back for the gold? How much gold was there? Was it worth going back for? Was it even still there? Was this some kind of trap?

"What was...?" Amy Rose opened her eyes and glanced around quickly in an attempt to reassure herself that they were all okay. Rouge still looked grumpy - so that was a good sign, grumpy was better than hurt - and the small yellow bird perched on Amys headband was still sleeping, so it was fine._ I'm okay. _Amy told herself, relieved by the discovery. Then she looked past the windshield and winced. The car was not okay. It was still racing around and still flashing golden but... _Ouch._ Amy cringed. There was a lot of damage.

More was coming.

A cloud of dust appears in the rearview mirror. And the text on the rearview mirror now reads: In the time that it takes you to read this, you could be run over.

The Roadrunner has supernatural amounts of lore and mythology squared. And one of the Roadrunners less explored skills... A nuclear cloud, if you pay attention, does damage in two main directions. First it explodes outward and then it collapses inward. The Roadrunner could, when it wanted to, achieve a similar effect on creatures standing nearby. The tall bird could run in such a way that it created a sort of wind tunnel that pushed objects away at first but then dragged them along.

The Batmobile gains some new decorations in the form of footprints. Which appear in a straight line going up the back, across the top and down the hood.

"How rude!" Rouge glared at this most recent damage with the resolute expression of someone who intends to take the repair costs out of someone elses wallet.

But Amy Rose is now standing in her seat and leaning forward. The Roadrunner had been a blur. And the blur had been kind of blue. So all that Amy Rose knows at the moment is that out there... Is a very fast creature. And it hasn't spoken to her. And even without seeing it clearly, she can just imagine it smiling. And so in her mind, the automatic conclusion is... "SONIC?!"

A familar sound wave hits, knocking the car sideways with enough force to lift the vehicle into the air. First the car was shoved away from the departing dust cloud and then the car was dragged along after it.

"Couldn't be Sonic." Rouge insists once the sound wave has faded and the car has tumbled unsteadily back onto the ground. She has to raise her voice to be heard over the revving engines and howling winds and she raises her voice extra, since she currently has her hands clamped protectively over her own ears but she nods to indicate the line of footprints that have been imprinted into the metal.

Amy stares at the evidence in shocked silence. A big foot? Two toes? No, it couldn't be Sonic. The shape and size of these footprints was all wrong for a hedgehog. And Sonic always wore shoes. There should have been sneaker treads in the imprint. Then again, Sonic probably moved too fast to even leave detailed imprints. So what did these footprints belong to? A monster? An imposter? Amy bristled. How dare they! She'd kill them! How could they have... Wait. No. Really. How could they have? How could anyone other than Sonic...? Who else could have...? Shadow might have the speed but Shadow wasn't blue. Mecha was blue but the robot probably didn't have the speed, not anymore. Not after being rebuilt so many times. And anyway, they were both hedgehogs as well. So... The footprints embedded into the car didn't support those ideas. Amy slumped down in her seat while the scenary outside of the cracked windows blurred. The Batmobile, still flashing gold with red headlights, has decided to take offense and is attempting to give chase. Amy hardly notices, her thoughts caught in a vicious cycle. Eventually Amy sniffled. "Rouge?"

"Hrm?" Rouge replies, her eyes now locked on the view ahead and her hands locked on the steering. She sincerely disliked being unable to steer. The scenary around them was changing, the military base where they'd left the captured island was no longer in sight. What had that creature been? What were they chasing? Where were they going? How far were they from civilization? What if the car broke down out here? How much pressure could the car handle? Had this vehicle actually been designed for combat? All this and more, Rouge was trying to figure it out.

She didn't like their odds.

Amy Rose was looking down, fidgeting. She took a moment to assemble the words, each pause emphasizing how hard it was for her to even dare to speak this thought aloud. "Have you ever noticed... that Sonic... kind of avoids me sometimes?"

Rouge snorted softly, only half paying attention. Keeping her eyes forward. "Glad that YOU noticed." Muttered the bat.

Amy plunged on, her voice catching. "Do you think...he might have...changed species...just to avoid me?"

This was not a conversation that Rouge wanted to be part of. It was not an idea that she wanted to entertain. So the bat carefully arranged her features into a neutral expression and pretended that she had not heard the question.

The silence stretched for miles with Amy projecting increasing amounts of gloom and despair. It was clear that just the idea had damaged her. The longer the silence went, the more the damage would spiral. The regrets began piling up. How could she have ever been so foolish? How could she have ever believed...? So much of her life wasted, chasing a dream...

Rouge was not always friendly or polite. She was not always a law-abiding citizen. But she knew the value of the truth and she had the ability to speak it, although in this case she did so with a trace of reluctance. "Oh snap out of it!" Rouge finally snarled, knowing that it wouldn't do her any good to be stuck around someone who was miserable. "You should know better! You know him better than I do! He doesn't like change, right? He's always fighting to try and keep things the same, isn't he? He doesn't even get the chance to fight to make things better anymore because he's too busy just trying to prevent things from getting worse, right?! And he's always been happy to be himself, hasn't he? So why would he just up and switch species? That's absurd! If Sonic wanted to avoid someone, he could do it without changing species! IF that's even him out there - and I doubt it! - but IF it is, then something must have happened. That's all."

Amy Rose blinked and looked up, startled but also grateful and relieved. "... You're right." Amy nodded. Her voice remained unsteady. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands while mentally fighting off the despair and trying to pretend that it wasn't something that had affected her too deeply. "Thanks." Amy turned her gaze to the road ahead. "That might be the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me."

It was true. Amys own friends and family were generally sick of hearing about her galactic-scale crush on the blue hero. Sonic himself hadn't really encouraged her pursuit - at least, not with any consistancy. Their shared friends had been quietly disinterested in the subject. Even Cream, who always listened patiently, was too polite to be this blunt on a regular basis. Actually, about the only notable person who'd ever been blunt with her on a regular basis was... _Ivo._ Amy realized. And then she realized how strange it was that she'd always had to go to the bad guys for good relationship advice. What did that mean? And if Rouge and Ivo each knew so much about relationships then why didn't either of them appear to have any? Hrm. Amy would have to dwell on that later. For now, she was preoccupied with other ideas. Mainly: was that blue thing out there Sonic? And if so then what had happened to him? Was this some new kind of transformation? Would the change wear off on it's own? Could it be undone?

What if the creature out there wasn't Sonic? If the creature wasn't Sonic... Then what was it and where was it from and what was it doing here and... And did Sonic even know about it?

This new chain of thought was not given much time to linger.

Woodstock, still asleep, ruffled his thin feathers.

Rouge and Amy Rose were not aware of this. What they DID become aware of... Suddenly all of the computers and digital readouts that filled the cars interior were lit up with an incoming message. And even though the car was sentient now... Even though it did have a choice... Old habits died hard. And this wasn't just a habit. This was what the most awesome professional race car in the multiverse had been built for. This was the vehicles reason for being. It's whole purpose. So without even slowing down, without even hesitating, the Super Batmobile changed direction.

They weren't chasing the cloud of dust left by the mysterious two-toed blue blur anymore. Where were they going now?

"...what...the...HECK..." Rouge was speaking through gritted fangs and her pauses made it clear that she might have preferred to use more creative language. "...IS THAT?!"

One of the screens located on the dashboard was displaying what appeared to be a flashing logo. A digital readout beneath the screen - which was also flashing and so it took a few tries to read - had the words: Alert! The Bat Signal has been detected! Checking... Checking... Confirmed! Mapping coordinates. In route to emergency! Prepare for warp speeds!

"This car can warp?!" Amy did a quick check of her seatbelt and wished for...well...armor. A helmet, at least. A seatbelt did not seem like enough protection. If the car was going to warp... If they crashed or hit anything...This was ridiculous! The car was already damaged. The car might fall apart. There might not be anything secure enough to hang on to. It couldn't be safe! And... Just how many creatures in the universe were capable of moving so fast?! And if there were so many things that could move with that kind of speed then... Did that make Sonic less special...?

She almost couldn't even think that. Amy Rose did not want to think that. Because she loved Sonic. But... Painful as it was to admit, even privately... On some level Amy Rose was consciously forced to admit that... Maybe... If Sonic had been more ordinary... If he'd been slower... If she could have caught up to him easily... Then perhaps she wouldn't have even taken notice of him in the first place. And that implied... That maybe... Just possibly... That even if she did respect and admire and like Sonic himself... What she loved, what she really really loved... Was the chase.

BOOM.

Another rush of wind. The Super Batmobile warped. There was no such thing as scenary at this speed because the definition of scenery is that it gets seen. But if Team Jewel had been able to slow down, even just microscopically, then they might have seen the blur of the Roadrunner. Passing them again. Easily. Going in a different direction now.

Not that they'd seen the Roadrunner clearly the first time but... The legendary bird wasn't carrying anything in his mouth anymore. And he didn't have the necklace of sneakers on, either.

**ooxoo**

**A** large pile of slightly melted gold coins - roughly equal in weight to Cream plus four monsters - sped across the twisting dimensions. In spite of some random obstacles, the pile had managed to stay together. The coins were now hitting a critical speed. With speed came friction. With friction came heat. With heat came further melting. The individual coin shapes grew steadily more distorted.

Some of the coins seemed to be melting from the center outward. A hole would appear in the middle and spread. This tended to give them, for less than instant, the appearance of small shiny halos. Or maybe 'rings' would be a better description. Shiny golden rings... But only just for a moment. Then the moment was gone. The rings and the coins and the golden drippings were all still moving at high speeds. Every individual item in the pile was spinning and the objects were close together. At first the coins had bounced and spun off each other, richocheting around in the ever-thinning limbo that separated one version of reality from the next. But now, thanks to the heat generated by their velocity, the gold began to fuse. And if something that is already hot enough to be melting touches something of equal or greater temperature... The melting process accelerated.

What had started as a pile of coins turned into a bright burning wave of liquid metal.

And the final destination for this wave was, naturally, an unsuspecting robot. The wave crashed down on him without any warning. He was instantly gold-plated. He did not, once his internal computers had cooled enough to function again, appreciate it.

For a few long moments the entire casino went uncharacteristically quiet. The gambling humans placing their bets, the greedy mob giving chase to James Bond... Even the animals from the nightclub and the customers in the arcade had noticed the sudden quiet and had come out to see what the lack of noise was about. And these creatures... They were all staring. And they were staring at gold so you probably wouldn't need to be psychic to guess what they were thinking.

"Get him?" suggested James Bond, relieved to no longer be the focal point here.

Mecha did not have the ability to scowl. Being a robotic hedgehog meant that his range of facial expressions was limited. Currently being gold-plated did not help in this regard.

For regular hedgehog warriors, turning golden made them stronger. For Mecha... Not so much.

Gold has weight. It's a heavy metal. Mecha was extremely aware of this at the moment and felt that if he couldn't shed the layer of gold soon, he was likely doomed. The added weight would slow him down and limit his ability to fight. It would limit his ability to escape, as well. Honestly it would limit all of his abilities because the extra layer of metal was clogging and slowly crushing his mechanical joints. He had to get rid of it. The gold would draw - it was already drawing - a lot of unwanted attention. And the people here... If these customers got ahold of him... They would take the gold, yes but would that be the extent of the damage? What else might they take? Mecha doubted that he could survive such an scenario intact.

And that's what Mecha expected to happen. Because that was the most logical thing to expect. Humans generally didn't have a reputation for being considerate when they thought that riches were up for grabs. These customers in particular... They were greedy. They were desperate. They were gamblers and partiers and expecting for the world to end. Especially with the world maybe ending, these people had no real reason to avoid risk. Not unless Mecha gave them a reason. Immediately.

Between what he had learned from trying to conquer the planet more than once in the past and from managing the poker tables, more recently... Mecha knew how to adjust to unexpected situations. Still. What happened next caught him off guard.

A human that was out in the casino, staring up at him, knelt. Other humans exchanged glances then followed suit. Yes, they were gamblers. Yes, they were partiers. Yes, they were desperate. And paranoid. And superstitous. These casino customers... Even just the people from the arcade... Winning was always the goal, of course. Everyone wanted wealth and fame and luxury. Everyone wanted happiness. But... They didn't always believe in those things. No. What these people really believed in... What they mostly believed in... Was luck. And the average level of belief found inside a casino, Mecha calculated, could probably make a church look wishy-washy by comparison. And the world might in fact be currently ending, as far as these people knew. So perhaps they were even more desperate and paranoid and superstitous than usual. And what they had just seen... A blistering wave of golden light had come out of nowhere, falling from above... It had ruined a patch of carpet. It had melted some of the nearby slot machines. If the bright burning wave had hit any of these people, they would be dead. They knew that. They could see the damage. They understood. And the burning wave had not hit them. The burning wave had hit Mecha. And he was not burned. He was not dead. Granted, words like 'dead' probably couldn't even be applied to Mecha because those were organic concepts and he was a robot. But, still... What these people thought they had witnessed...

It had to be a miracle.

Mecha did have the ability to blink. He accomplished this by resetting all of his optical senors. He did this because he wanted to make sure that his internal parts were not malfunctioning. They weren't. He had to believe his eyes - they were telling him the truth. The casino was now full of people who were bowing down to him. Looking up at him. And the way these people were looking up at him... Mecha recognized that their expressions seemed to express varying degrees of awe, adoration and hope. Not greed. And... The casino was not back to it's regular noise levels but the silence was gone. People were crying. People were talking. Some of them appeared to be praying. Mecha couldn't make out every conversation but from what he percieved... These people thought that he had saved them.

Was this some kind of joke? Mecha didn't understand. He hadn't known that the burning wave was coming. He hadn't stepped into it deliberately. And while it was true that Mecha had learned a great deal by working here... Much as he'd progressed beyond his original programming... Mecha was, at his core, a living weapon. And so to have a victory without earning it - that didn't add up, in his mind. And... Also... Did this mean that maybe all that Mecha had ever needed to do, in order to rule the world, was turn golden? A few cans of paint and viola?

Why hadn't he ever thought of that before?!

And what should he do next? Should he correct these people? Tell them it wasn't a miracle?

Or... Was it?

The subject was a tricky one. Miracles were an abstract concept. They were not easily defined. Mecha was certainly advanced, for a conscious robot, but he had never been an organic creature and so he lacked the natural instincts to really grasp the idea. But the customers at the casino... The people and the animals... They were not likely to be the most intelligent group but they were alive. They had been born with instincts that Mecha could hardly imagine - at least in part because imagination was on the list of traits that robots tended to have trouble replicating - much less fully understand. So... Hrm. Might this crowd actually know what they were talking about? What if their instincts were right? Maybe what had just happened DID qualify as a miracle of some sort.

If he tried to deny that a miracle had taken place, would anyone believe him?

Perhaps he should just go with the flow, to borrow a human phrase. Truthfully though, Mecha had not learned about that phrase from a human. He'd learned the phrase from Vector. Anyway. Yes. Go with the flow seemed like a suitable course of action in these circumstances. Let these creatures believe whatever they needed to. As long as the mob wasn't going to try and take him apart, Mecha had no reason to cause trouble.

Although... Mecha might have smiled, if he'd been able to. Yes. He was married now and the casino had been good to him - that was true. He was, in his own detached way, sincerely grateful. But... Old habits did indeed die hard and robots didn't technically die at all, they just got rebuilt. Mecha knew this. He was a conscious robot. He'd been rebuilt several times. It hadn't been Mechas choice to get rebuilt. Others had always made that decision - often after a vicious struggle to deactivate him - but getting rebuilt wasn't something that he regretted, either. Because giving up had never been a part of his programming. Not even after all of the upgrades. Besides, never ever giving up seemed to be a habit that always worked for the heros. Why shouldn't the same logic apply to everyone else as well? Why should only the heros be able to gain success through stubborness?

No, Mecha hadn't been planning to launch his newest scheme anytime soon. And his original newest scheme hadn't been this one. This scheme, unraveling before him as the result of the miracle, had more imagination than anything he would have come up with. This scheme involved a lot of risk. But if the world really was supposively ending... And as long as he had some willing servants on hand... Then the opportunity was a golden one. So perhaps Mecha didn't have any reason to avoid taking risks, either.

**ooxoo**

**Z**oom out.

Way, way out.

No, further. Further. Keep going.

A bulky robot - it is not golden but appears to have been built in a rush and has the combined features of a fishbowl, an industrial vaccum cleaner and an old fashioned arcade game - flails its long arms. "DANGER! DANGER!" Congratulations. You are now officially lost in space. That should be about far enough.

Out here among the cold vast darkness and fragile twinkling stars... Suddenly an angry high-pitched scream is audible. The noise seems to be coming from Earth.

"NO! WAY!"

Zoom in. Quickly.

The scenary blurs, the camera starts to burn up and the darkness returns. A new camera is switched on.

It looks like another lovely day in the countryside. There are gentle sloping meadows full of flowers. Cozy clusters of small villages dotting the worn hillsides. And then... Off to one side, as if an estate of such magnitude could possibly be discreet, an impressive palace surrounded elaborate manicured gardens and a formidable looking stone wall.

On closer inspection, the wall is showing some recent cracks. It begins crumbling. Every window in the palace has been shattered. The glass is still tinkling to the ground. Flocks of startled songbirds fill the sky, chirping in alarm as they depart from the area. Below a van screeches into an open parking position, nearly injuring some of the dazed and deafened tourists. An industrial cleanup crew quickly piles out of the vehicle - the parade of flustered workers seems to defy logic and physics, surely not THAT many people could actually fit inside this van - and hurries off to begin work.

Inside of the palace, Sally is upset. There is actual visible steam rising from her in angry wavy lines. She might be able to crack mirrors with her glare. She might be able to wither flowers with her icy tone. "I don't CARE if it's traditional! I am NOT going to - "

One of the hapless ministers cringing behind a piece of overturned furniture on the other side of the large room dared to raise a trembling voice. "Your Temporary Majesty," he pleaded in earnest, "Surely, you misunderstand! What we have proposed is a noble and..."

Sally took a hissing breath, clenched her fists, gritted her teeth and narrowly avoided the temptation to raise her voice another few decibels. "Killing animals for entertainment is NOT noble." She snapped while marching forward in a menacing way. "And don't call me Shirley!"

The frightened ministers scrambled to get more distance from her, mumbling heavily accented protests as they fled.

Hunting had been a royal hobby for centuries. All around them, on the palace walls, was the evidence. Polished weapons hung alongside crooked paintings and dusty tapestries of hunting scenes. The corridors were full of hunting...prizes...on display. The tradition had probably started out of need but these days it was considered a sport. A test of skill. A rite of passage. Social networking. Bragging rights. All that plus finding things from nature to further decorate the palace with. The victims, the dead animals - or sometimes just a few select parts of them - were often preserved and presented. The corpses were considered trophies and unique fashion accessories.

Not all the factions of modern human culture would have supported this idea. Not all of the humans were active hunters anymore - but they likely had been, once. The human ancestors...

Sally was a humanoid animal. And not just any animal either - she was a squirrel. Squirrels, as a species, have been accused of many things but they are generally not known for being predators. Not even the ancient prehistoric saber-toothed squirrels had hunted much beyond acorns, if the records were accurate. So needless to say... The very idea... It was offensive.

And disturbing.

Sally couldn't order anyone to redecorate the entire palace just for her sake. She was, as her current subjects were always politely pointing out, only the temporary Queen. Hence Sally had done her best to ignore this aspect of the situation. This castle wasn't her home. This was a temporary arrangement. A favor to a fellow royal. She shouldn't be stuck here for too long, no matter how things worked out. So why let the decor bother her? Sally could be diplomatic when she had to. Humans collected the weirdest things. That's all there was to it. As long as Sally didn't recognize any of the trophies... As long as she focused on other issues and didn't try to think about it too much...

As long as they absolutely did not invite her to go hunting with them.

Was she humanoid enough to adopt this tradition? Hrm. Sally had grown up in a warzone. She could fight. Not always very well but... Fighting was a survival skill. She had survived. No debate there. And hunting, Sally knew, was another survival skill. She didn't enjoy that prospect. She'd never enjoyed fighting. She hadn't actually needed to fight very much, all things considered. Sally had mostly just gathered the information, studied the trends and made the plans. She was the leader, the general. The royal one. She had tried to take care of everyone else. She had always felt a responsibility towards others.

That part had made fighting especially complicated. Because opponents, in her mind, had sometimes fallen under the label of 'others' as well.

Sonic didn't let the world get to him, not like Sally did. Sonic could find a way to fight even in those circumstances when other warriors might hesitate. Sally couldn't remember if she'd ever seen the blue hedgehog holding back in a fight. Of course, his battles had typically been so fast... Maybe Sally hadn't seen everything. And her memory was full of holes at the moment but... So much courage. How did he do that? Sally felt as if she hadn't quiet gotten the hang of being brave. At times, that irritated her. Privately, she was glad. Much as she admired and respected her blue friend, she didn't ever want to be that comfortable in combat.

Anyway. Fighting against robots for survival was different than hunting animals for sport. Yeah! Completely different! The skills might be related but the intentions were definitely not! And even if she wasn't always a total vegetarian... Eating a hotdog once in a while didn't automatically mean that Sally felt the need to go out and slaughter another creature. Hotdogs probably didn't come from real animals anyway.

This was not a comforting line of thought.

"D-d-does i-it h-h-help t-to m-mention t-that..." A stammering minister gathered his wits and blurted out. "...that you would get to ride a pony?"

Sally paused her threatening march and snapped out of her spiraling internal funk. She had been raised by men but she was, after all, a girl. Sally didn't always understand other girls or act very girly - she hadn't had a lot of practice, at these things - but apparently there are some unwritten gender laws that transcend age and species. "...a...pony?" Sally scrunched her nose as this new idea unraveled around her. Her voice softened. She pronounced the words with deliberate care and a healthly dose of disbelief. "...for me?"

While still backing away, another palace minister rushed to expand on this idea. "Why yes, Your Temporary Highness. Any pony that you would like. There are many fine stables to choose from in this country."

A pony... Sally was a princess but she had never owned a pony before. She'd been too young, her childhood teachers had insisted, to start riding lessons. And then the invasion had come along. The war had started. Her father had been banished to another dimension and she'd had to escape from her own home. Her whole life had changed. She'd never been able to go back to being just a child. She had learned to fight and drive and sail but... She'd never...

What was this strange warmth? Sallys heartbeat had a new rhythm section. There was a mild dizziness and the giddy sensation of almost floating. As if a smile were tugging at her, from the inside out. There was a strong impulse to clasp her hands together, stand in a pose that had one foot raised slightly off the ground and squeal with delight.

It was a such a nice feeling.

"NO."

Sally knew how to get rid of this positive energy. All she had to do was remind herself of everything and everyone that she had ever lost. Her memory was not perfect at the moment but this reflexive tactic still worked for her. Easily. This young lady knew the meaning of happiness and had even experienced joy once or twice in her life but... Sally was a survivor. She had survivors guilt. So many had risked so much... Even if Sally couldn't currently remember all the details, she refused to completely forget. It wouldn't be honorable to totally forget. Wouldn't be respectful. Wouldn't be responsible. She was a leader. Okay, so right now she was only a temporary leader - but still! That counted! She had been entrusted with a lot of responsibility. She had to be responsible. End of discussion.

With her habitually negative aura thus restored, Sally resumed her angry stomping march down the corridor. Anger and sadness... These emotions were more familiar. With these emotions she felt more like herself. More in control of the situation. Happiness was, in her limited experience, hard to trust.

Have we mentioned that the laws of nature have been changing, though? And, funny thing, when the laws of nature change... There really is a ripple effect. Everything else changes, too. Including the laws of Mythology. And Mythology was deranged to begin with, remember?

Suddenly, the pleasant chimes of a doorbell echoed throughout the palace. As a result, everyone in the area of the palace pauses what they are doing. Even the terrified palace ministers pause to exchange bewildered glances.

"How long has there been a doorbell installed at this palace?" ventures one of the younger ministers.

Silence. The extra special everyone-heard-you-but-nobody-has-any-idea-how-to-answer-you brand of silence.

The young minister continues. "And... Uhm... So... If we do in fact have company waiting to come inside... Then... Ah... Which door do you suppose they are waiting at?"

Silence. Again. Same brand.

Sally is the first to recover. She sounds exasperated. "We're not going to find out by just standing around!"

This remark gets interpreted as a royal order. People bow, salute, curtsey and then rush to obey. Several busy moments pass with numerous doors opening and closing all around the palace. The palace, it should be pointed out, has more doors than most people would care to shake a stick at. So this could take a while to be resolved - but it doesn't. Because there is also a brand new door in the palace. This door happens to look rather old. But it wasn't there a moment ago. It only just appeared, materializing less than a yard away from where Sally is standing.

How convenient. And fitting.

Oh look. comments Fate, The third big and powerful dimension to get caught in this mess, the one that has been here for awhile without doing much good, is making a comeback.

Mythology squints. Hrm. So it is. Say... Didn't THAT place used to be called the fifth dimension?

Yes, I think so. says Fate.

Wonder why they changed the name. says Mythology.

To confuse the tourists maybe? Fate laughs. Ha! Or maybe they got sued by a band!

Sally has not heard them. What Sally has been listening to... The castle all around Sally exists in full living color. The new old door is in high contrast grayscale. This particular door also comes with its own theme music, which was rather loud and redundant. The theme music could have been composed by someone banging on a small piano. The melody was just the same few notes, over and over.

It was a plain looking old wooden door but it did practically introduce itself. It would be rather hard not to notice. Sally had of course noticed the arrival of the door but she was a cautious and rational creature. So she did not rush over to fling the door open. What might be behind this door? What if it was something awful? She had to consider safety. No, Sally generally did not trust doors that just conveniently appeared. It was unnatural. She had never known doors to behave this way. Too suspicious, she felt. Not worth the risk. Probably a trap.

As if on cue, the door moved by itself. Slowly swinging open. Accompanied by its own theme music and the mandatory off-key nerve-grating ominous creak. The world on the other side of the door is, like the door itself, visible only in high contrast grayscale. And the further the door swings open, the more visible this space becomes. And as it turns out the space on the other side of this most unique door is, in fact, space. Outer space. Cold vast darkness with fragile twinkling stars. And words, oddly enough. Three words in a bold white font, just hanging here amid the starscape.

The Twilight Zone.

Sally slammed the door shut and leaned against it. She'd heard of zones before. She couldn't remember who had told her about them at the moment but she vaguely remembered hearing that Sonic and Tails... Those two had fought their way through heavily guarded areas called zones in the past, when saving the world and... And...

Wait... If they had gone through zones in order to save the world in the past... Then in order to help save the world now... Should she...?

Leaning against the door, Sally became aware of a chill. She glanced down, stared, yelped and jumped away from the door. The door remained closed but the theme music was still playing and the grayscale was leaking out. Sally watched in trembling horror as her brown fur went light gray. What could she do? How was she supposed to stop this from happening? How could anyone... It was her responsibility to protect others but... The grayscale was spreading, rapidly draining the living color from everything in the castle. Sally felt helpless. She felt angry. Denial, surprise and confusion still lingered as well.

"Your Temporary Majesty?"

Sally turned. She felt further disoriented. Sally knew that she had just been in a hallway but now the hallway was gone. She was in a large room, somewhere else in the castle. She wasn't even sure that she'd seen this room before. The ministers and servants were all here, gathered around a table. A round table, Sally noticed. Covered in paperwork. And most of the paperwork seemed to be covered in math. There were also charts and graphs and maps. So this had to be some kind of a meeting. Just beyond the round table was a group of geeky humans wearing long white lab coats over their suits. Holding clipboards. Smiling nervously. Pacing back and forth. Scientists, Sally assumed. They cringed and then bowed to her if she tried to look directly at any of them. But... There was an expectant air to the way they behaved.

_They're waiting for me to say something._ Sally recognized the behavior. _They want my opinion or permission or something like that and... I have no idea what this meeting is about..._ Inwardly she panicked but outwardly, she kept calm. Sally cleared her throat and all her years of being more of a general than a princess came to her rescue. She'd been to enough meetings to know how they worked. "I would like to hear the proposal again." She hazarded. It seemed like a safe thing to say.

Her ministers exchanged worried glances. The servants whispered to each other.

"Of course." A nervous scientist bowed. "We should have expected that this discovery... It's only natural that..."

"Just the facts, please." Sally ordered, folding her arms and stepping towards the table. Wanting to get a better look at some of the paperwork. What was going on here? A budget debate? A war?

"All we have is the theory at the moment." The scientist spoke in apologetic tones. "In order to prove..."

Sally wasn't listening anymore. Because she had gotten a better look at some of the paperwork.

So what Sally abruptly understood was that this meeting was about her. More specifically, it was about her parents. These scientists had managed to trace her fathers genes all the way back to before the ice ages but for her mother, they'd found nothing. They had the best minds and machines in the country working on this project and yet they'd learned nothing. The scientists couldn't even tell Sally what species her mother might have been - but now they had a theory about why. A brilliant but twisted theory. Simple and profound. And it went like this:

What if Sallys mother was from the future? When her father was banished to a different dimension - what if THAT was how her parents had met? Maybe the story about her mother dying when Sally was young was a lie. Maybe the lie had been told because it was easier to believe. Maybe her mother was not dead. Maybe her mother hadn't even been born yet. And maybe that was why nobody could trace her mothers DNA.

This was more than Sally had ever wanted to know. This was more than she'd ever expected to know. But now that she knew of this theory... She also knew, without question, what had to be done about it. Because even if she didn't want to believe that it could be possible... What if...?

Sally had to sit down. "Arrange a hunting party." She ordered quietly, unable to tear her gaze away from the paperwork. She read it again, as if hoping that the words would change. They didn't.

The royal ministers, who clearly had no memory of Sallys previous stance on the subject of hunting, were still surprised. Even as they moved to act on the order, they were surprised. Because they didn't understand the connection. What did a hunting party have to do with this experiment? Then again... The news about her parents had come as a bit of a shock... So perhaps it would do their temporary Queen some good to get out of the castle for a while. Yes, it would probably do them all some good to get out. The ministers nodded to each other as they gathered their things. Servants shuffled away to begin the preparations. Scientists were politely ushered out. The meeting was over. Such decisions should not be rushed.

And off in the background, ever so faintly, the music of the Twilight Zone continues to play.

**ooxoo**

**S**o what's happening at Gotham City Hospital?

The situation here has, in fact, managed to get worse. Silver the Hedgehog no longer existed and so - logically - he could no longer be the most traumatized character in this story. Currently, the most traumatized character in this story... Uhm. Actually, there are several characters now competing for this title. It is difficult to tell who's winning.

A cluster of police officers and their current commissioner were gathered in a hospital hallway. They were making the collective effort to seem calm instead of horrified and were quietly failing. Which was significant. The police of Gotham... And it must be noted that Gotham City hadn't always had police. There had always been a commissioner and sometimes a police chief but not an actual police force. No regular officers or deputies or anything. Gotham had always TRIED to have a police force. Gotham had always WANTED to have a police force. But getting people to last for more than five minutes in that line of work - and especially in this city - was an ongoing struggle. So the police force... Just the fact that these people were here at all... Indicated that these were hardened men and women. Combat veterans, most of them. Worthy of respect. They had seen and survived more than their share of disaster. And despite the risks, they still showed up for work each day. They hadn't quit.

It was a sad truth that violent crime was a daily affair in most large cities - perhaps it was a daily affair even in some small towns - but Gotham City held the undisputed record. Because more than half of Gotham City was owned and operated by the sort of criminals who honestly didn't mind if innocent bystanders were reduced to bloody smears on the pavement. And if any of those innocent bystanders happened to survive the whole experience then, of course, they would be mutilated and offended and it would only be a matter of time before they joined the villainous ranks and sought their revenge. It was a truly vicious cycle.

Thus Gotham City was not, to put it nicely, a place where people who could afford to be anywhere else in the multiverse came to live. Although there were exceptions to every rule. Someone had once described Gotham as 'our fair city'. Probably a resident of the local asylum. Still. There were certain types of people that were drawn to this sort of place. Maybe the explosions and near-constant wail of sirens simply didn't bother them. Maybe the knowledge that any time they set so much as a toenail outside, they could be run over by a high speed chase gave them a secret thrill. Or maybe they enjoyed the challenge. Maybe they were like the police who seemed to believe that their dark violent city could be fixed. That order could be restored.

After all, the citizens of Gotham did have a local hero. Someone to look up to and be inspired by. A warrior for justice and truth. Or at least a mysterious guy who seemed to be fond of skin-tight dark costumes and expensive cars. A guy who was willing and able risk his life on a regular basis in order to challenge the authority of the numerous criminal organizations. Their hero had a good reputation for getting things sorted out, no matter how badly outnumbered he was. Nobody could remember if he'd ever taken a day off. And he even worked for free. Yes, the lawful people of Gotham could always count on their Knight.

Then again, change IS a constant. Even better than a law. And accidents do happen.

"Let me get this straight." The police commissioner had already asked this question a few times but he kept hoping to get a different answer. "The...signal...that we saw...?"

"The doctors..." Robin, grown-up-boy wonder and long-suffering-sidekick extraordinaire, suppressed a shudder and tried not to think about some of the doctors that he'd seen around here lately. He had a lot of memories of Gotham City Hospital. Because getting hurt now and then was just part of being a sidekick. So Robin had spent a significant amount of time at the hospital, in one capacity or another. Either visiting or being visited. It hadn't always been a pleasant thing but Robin didn't think that it had ever been quite so...disturbing...as it was now. Hospitals were meant to be places of healing and safety. Places where people came to be cared for until they could take care of themselves. Gotham City Hospital had apparently changed its approach. Perhaps this was an eleborate exercise in reverse psychology. Perhaps Gotham City Hospital was aiming to encourage healthly habits by being so openly awful. Maybe people would take better care of themselves, just to avoid coming to a place like this. Or perhaps they'd be too terrified to actually get sick.

Although that had never worked before, the fear thing. Robin didn't admit to being afraid very often but anyone who could survive Batmans driving skills definitely had an intimate knowledge of fear. And being too fearful for too long - that wasn't healthy. That, Robin knew, seemed to invite illness more than prevent it.

He refocused, not wanting to go down that mental road and finished his sentance. "...say that it's perfectly normal for someone who's had this kind of operation to inherit traits from the organ donor."

The gathered group considered this information in their own private cloud of gloomy silence. Around them, the hospital went about its increasingly gruesome business with enthusiastic amounts of noise.

"Dr. Howard! Dr. Fine! Dr. Howard!" chirped the hospital intercom. "Please report immediately to..."

A trio of stooges went barreling past, shouting indistinctly at each other the whole way. Two of them were dressed as surgeons and the third one was selling hotdogs. All of them were riding tricycles. With bells.

Robin doubted that he would ever be able to eat a hotdog again. And he could not suppress the idea that fleeing from the hospital might be a good career move at this point. But fleeing would have required stepping outside and stepping outside would have meant seeing...the signal

Outside, visible beyond the window at the end of the hall, the night sky glittered with the lights and customary violent explosions of the dark city. And also with something else. The neon yellow stylized symbol of a bat hung in the air as if projected by a massive spotlight. Except... this bat signal, tonight... Was rather more heart-shaped than usual. And the yellow was going a bit pink. And the whole signal... It was not being projected by a spotlight at all.

The police commissioner braced himself, marched a short distance down the hall, peered into the hospital room there, visibly resisted going into a coma at what he saw there and then stiffly marched back to the people under his command. "And they think... He'll live... Like THAT?"

"Uhm, yes." Robin had to lean against a wall and cross his arms. He wasn't keen on the concept either. He didn't know what kind of creature a Care Bear was or how such a creature had qualified to be an organ donor to humans. He wasn't really sure that he wanted to know. It made the situation more...bearable...just to rationalize that one of Batmans usual enemies must somehow be behind all this. "Yes. The doctors said that he's going to be like that for the rest of his life."

A moment of silence. The type of silence that somehow made it clear that they were all thinking: Maybe we should kill him?

The group shared the thought but nobody dared to speak it. The police were residents of Gotham City. Which meant that although they were hardened combat veterans, just to even be here... During the course of their careers, the Dark Knight had saved them all. Repeatedly. For free. So even with the hero in his current condition... Arranging a quick dignified death for the guy might be tempting but... No. They couldn't. They couldn't act on this idea. They respected their hero. They owed him so much.

But... What would happen, if all the people of Gotham City found out that their hero...? If the media found out... The criminals...

Robin wasn't even too worried about the various resident criminals - they'd be problems no matter what happened. Whether the city had a hero or not. None of the local criminal masterminds were likely to retire from being evil just because their favorite heroic rival was out of commission. In the absence of a good guy, the bad guys would probably just spend more time fighting with each other. Therefore Robin mainly felt worried for the regular folks, instead. Because people needed to have a hero. A serious hero. Well. A partially serious hero, at least. A leader. A guy who could be scary when he needed to be. A guy who could get things done. Not a guy who might skip across the rooftops to offer you a hug. Robin cringed.

He was worried for himself, as well. Because Gotham City absolutely needed a hero. The position could not be left vacant. Someone would have to take over.

There were other human heros. Robin did know that. He had met - and occasionally been kidnapped by - most of the other human heros. But other heros... The reason they were heros... They had their own territories. Their own cities to look after. And they had their own lives, too. They kept busy. Spiderman was making a musical. Wonder Woman had become a professional wrestler. Superman kept having to flee from the police in his own city because they didn't recognize him in his geeky glasses and wanted to charge him with public indecency every time he tried to get into costume. Captain America had spent so may years fighting in distant places that nobody even knew where he was anymore. He might be dead. Then again, he might have just taken up window washing at childrens hospitals. There was even a rumor going around that he might have joined a band. Whatever Captain America was doing these days, it seemed that likely that he had retired from the superhero business after learning that the World Government had been established. He wasn't the only one. Many of the human heros had retired, after the government had gone global.

And so the problem was... These other human heros were not available. And all of them were older than Robin. And none of them knew Gotham City as well as he did. And he was right here. He had the job training.

Robin wasn't eager to accept the promotion. He'd seen the hazards of this job. He was the sidekick. He'd kind of gotten used to being the sidekick. Heros worked all the time. Sidekicks got a few days off. Robin liked having a day off, now and then. Stepping up temporarily... That might be okay. That could work. But this arrangement didn't seem like it would be temporary. And he hadn't even phoned the mansion to tell Alfred yet. Not directly. Not everything. Nowhere near everything. But now that the no-longer-quite-so-Dark Knight could project his own modified bat signal into the sky... People would be bound to ask questions. And if all the authorities tried to avoid those questions then people would be bound to make up their own answers. So... Someone was going to have to...

And where could they find someone else, on such short notice?

A scream echoed down the corridor. In Gotham City Hospital, this was not unusual. Anymore a wide array of screams seemed to be part of the background noise here. But the background screams gave the impression of being far away. Not nearby. Not getting closer.

"OUTOFMYAWAY!GETAWAY!COMING THROUGH!AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" A rather tall round man dressed in the style of a toy soldier and sporting a mustache so big that the tips brushed against the walls on either side of the corridor, shoved the police aside and went sprinting out of sight. The old guy didn't look like he should be a fast runner but, by human standards, he was.

More thudding footsteps approached. These were heavier. There was more shouting. The next voice sounded young and confused but determined.

"BIG BROTHER! COME BACK! I DON'T UNDERSTAND. WHERE ARE WE? WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU? WHY ARE YOU SO OLD AND-"

A large grey suit of armor lumbered past - apparently of its own accord. The tall old man with the big mustache had shoved people aside but people flung themselves out of the way of this. Was it some kind of robot?

Even with the chase out of sight, the distressed shouting remained audible.

"LEAVE ME ALONE! HAVE YOU NO RESPECT FOR TRUE GENIUS?!" shouted Dr. Ivo Robotnik. He understood robots. He had no problem with robots, as long as they weren't out to kill him. Even the robots who hated him - he could deal with that. He'd had practice at dealing with that. But this... When first approached by the creature, Ivo had assumed that it was a robot. He had admired how well it seemed to operate. So he'd opened it up, to see how it worked. And it wasn't a robot. Because it wasn't full of gears and wires and computer chips and progams. It was an empty suit of armor. A walking, talking empty suit of armor. Which meant, in Dr. Robotniks mind, that this thing was haunted. Or magical. Probably cursed. And he didn't care to deal with that. Not here, in an unfamiliar city. Not without any of his own tools or weapons handy. Maybe not ever. "I DON'T EVEN HAVE ANY BROTHERS!"

"...IT AFFECTED YOUR MEMORY?!" The walking, talking suit of armor still sounded young. And concerned. And hurt. His name is Alphonse.

Robin stared in the direction that they had departed. He didn't know their names. He didn't know what to think of them. He didn't have much chance to think anything.

BOOM.

The building shook. The level of violent noise increased. Windows shattered and doors fell off their hinges. More screaming. Fire alarms. Something that might have been a car once went skidding through a wall. One wall was not going to be enough to slow it down.

Robin didn't even recognize the vehicle. But people needed a leader. So, aware that the police officers were cautiously behind him, he followed the trail of destruction. And he paused a few yards away from the smoking twisted wreckage. If he had been in a better frame of mind to begin with then Robin might have said something like "Holy flaming hub cap!" - because there was one, although he wasn't sure if it was holy - but instead the terrible scene just rendered him mute. This speaks volumes. Because Robin had seen car accidents before. He had even been in a few car accidents. But... Not like this. And... Since the flaming hub cap had come to a spinning halt only a few inches from where he stood... Batman had always loved the car but Robin had, oddly enough, been the one to do most of the maintenance on the vehicle. So... He knew that hub cap.

Recognition began to occur.

It wasn't easy. There wasn't much left. The car had been damaged even before warping and warping had not been kind to the vehicle. Warping had not been kind to anyone.

Robin did not know that the car had warped. And he did not understand that the car was no longer in super mode because he'd never seen the car in super mode. He would have been surprised to learn that the car even had a super mode. What he did know... Robin could hardly believe what his brain was telling him. It couldn't be possible. He didn't want for it to be possible. The Batmobile had always been able to survive explosions and falling off skyscrapers - nevermind Batmans driving skills. The vehicle had better armor than the military. It had an engine that defied logic and physics. And Robin knew that the vehicle had been missing for a while but... How could this have happened? So many dents... And were those footprints embedded into the metal?! What could have done that? Where had the vehicle been? Who would have...?

A sleepy little yellow bird, chirping irritably and fluttering in loose upsidedown zigzags, left the ruined vehicle to search for new place to perch.

Then Rouge kicked what was left of the roof off of the car. The bat was not in the best health but she had been on adventures before and had always survived them. She was exhausted and upset but not about to stop surviving. She was able to stagger a few paces away from the wreck before fainting.

Robin did not want to linger on the horror of recognizing the car. And he did know a humanoid bat when he saw one. So you can almost see the lightbulb come on above his head and yeah, it might even be a heart shaped lightbulb.

Smart though Robin could be... Falling in love too easily with women who could probably rip his arms off was a bad habit of his. Or maybe it was another job requirement. Still. There had been an official Bat Girl before, right? Yes. Not quite like this, that was true. The original Bat Girl had definitely been more human than bat. And the original had retired years ago. But when she had been working, she had always saved Robins life. So even if the original Bat Girl had been more of a mysterious part-time sidekick than a hero... Robin was already biased in favor of the idea.

And this bat girl... She had to be tough, just to still be alive. That was plain to see. So maybe she would be able to last more than five minutes in the job. And she already had a skin-tight dark costume. So maybe it could work. Perhaps Gotham City wouldn't have to go without a hero. Maybe Robin could continue being a sidekick. Of course, this...actually, now that Robin was closer he could see that she was more like a bat lady...was going to need some medicial attention first. And Gotham City Hospital didn't seem like the best place for healing anymore. He should probably take her somewhere else so that she could get better.

With that in mind, Robin went to carefully pick the bat lady up. He was gentle not just because he was already in love with this complete stranger but also because he sincerely wasn't a jerk. He was respectful because he didn't want for his potential new boss to hate him and also because he kind of expected for the lady to kick him through a wall. Even unconscious, he thought that she might find a way.

And Ivo, who had heard all the violent noise of the cars arrival and had come to investigate, was already cradling the cars other passenger in his arms. He felt a bit protective. Amy Rose was practically his adoptive great-grandaughter. She was the only one who ever visited and listened. Ivo had enjoyed helping her with her homework. And when Amy got good grades in school, she sometimes baked him treats as a thank you - and he'd enjoyed those as well. To have a friend that was a hedgehog was an irony that Ivo was aware of. He had loathed hedgehogs for so long. But Amy Rose... Ivo couldn't loathe her. He'd tried. It hadn't worked. She was too nice. Not many creatures were geniunely nice to him.

So it made Ivo angry, to think that Amy Rose had been harmed. Because he didn't actually want to lose anything that he considered a friend. Because he didn't have that many friends. And he didn't want to have to seek - or try to build - replacements. Because that had never worked for him.

He had noticed Rouge, too. And the bat hadn't always been a complete enemy to him either. So Ivo didn't like to see the bat in such rough condition. Because he knew that Rouge was smart. A good source of information. It was rare for the bat to lie. Buying information from her was not cheap and she might not always tell the whole truth and she might steal your wallet even while she told you the truth but she was professional. And she valued her appearance. Rouge had always cared about her appearance. Everyone who knew her, knew that. She was fashion conscious. She spent so much of her life at work, in one capacity or another, that she liked to look professional. Hence it was exceptionally rare for Rouge to look even mildy beaten up. She was usually able to take better care of herself. She could train against warriors like Mecha, Vector, Charmy and Shadow on a regular basis without being seriously injured. She could help save the world without breaking a fingernail or getting an eyelash out of place. So if she was in such rough condition... Then the situation had to be very bad indeed.

Ivo turned and saw that the large suit of armor with the childish voice was standing nearby. Still staring at him with those sad hollow eyes. There was a little yellow bird perched on its shoulder now. Ivo continued to dislike the armor - it had to be haunted or maybe there was a chaos emerald powering it somehow - but as long as he was stuck with the creature following him then it might as well be useful. He gruffly entrusted Amy to the almost-robot, threatened it for a bit and then returned the bulk of his outraged attention to the doomed vehicle. He rolled up his long red sleeves.

He was a struggling genius but most of his struggles... Dr. Ivo Robotnik had trouble getting his inventions to work in the way that he'd intended. He had trouble getting his inventions just to stay together. However, taking things apart... That was completely different. That had never been a problem. And he was still strong, in spite of everything. So he didn't even need tools. Not to take something apart. And Amy Rose had been conscious for just enough time to utter the words: "The car...there's a chaos emerald...inside..."

So the Batmobile, the most awesome professional race car in the multiverse, the masterpiece formerly known as Jewel... Even if the vehicle hadn't been turned into a total wreck by warping... It never would have stood a chance.

**ooxoo**

**T**he fundamental problem with virtual training, believe it or not, was that it was virtual. In a ninja battle you have to be able to punch and kick and dodge and... In a virtual ninja battle, you had to remember what buttons to press. What computer commands to use. It wasn't the same.

Espio was a trained ninja. He would have done better in a real ninja battle. He was not accustomed to trying to press buttons instead of punch and kick and dodge. Okay - so he'd visited the arcade at the casino few times. The concept of video games was not news to him. But Charmy had always stomped him, at the video games in the arcade. And losing to a snide hyper little bee who was less than half his own age generally wasn't fun. So Espio had gradually lost interest in playing the arcade games. Besides, the ninjas in video games didn't really behave right for ninjas. Not in his opinion.

Movies were the same way. Espio couldn't watch ninja-themed movies anymore. He'd tried. They bothered him. In movies, a group of ninjas might approach all at once but they'd only attack one at time. It was like they weren't in any hurry, really, to get things done. And the movie ninjas... They'd usually be wearing the most impractical costumes that a fighter could possibly wear. And sneaking - real sneaking - was just out of the question, when they were carrying so many weapons. And they didn't seem to care if the battle took place in crowded public places, in broad daylight. And the movie ninjas sometimes even left the scene without finishing the job. And they sometimes left clues. It was like they didn't think that anyone would notice. It was like they were begging to be caught.

How could a serious student of the art not be offended by such portrayals?

In the village where Espio had grown up... If a skilled ninja wanted you dead then you didn't find out until you were dead. Maybe not even then. And if the ninja had done their work correctly then no one else would find out either. A battle was not meant to be some kind of massive synchronized street dancing contest. It was not meant to be an offbeat fashion show. The ninja worked, the victim died. End of story. No gloating monologues or pausing to strike poses for any spectators. A ninja wasn't supposed to have spectators. Ninjitsu was all about stealth and silence and...

And that's why being a ninja was the perfect career choice, for a chameleon. Stealth and silence and blending in - that wasn't even second nature, to a chameleon. No. That was first nature. That was basic survival.

Which was yet another reason why the virtual training just didn't work for him. In a real fight, Espio was a chameleon. He could blend in. Visibly merging with the surroundings usually gave Espio a wide range of ways to put his opponents at a severe disadvantage. But in a virtual fight - he couldn't blend in. That option was gone. That option didn't even come up. He wasn't a chameleon, in the virtual training. He was an icon on a screen. And that was a problem. Espio relied heavily on his natural skills to enhance his fighting abilities. He wasn't accustomed to not being able to use his chameleon techniques.

Virtually or not, Espio was being mauled.

It was hard for anyone to appreciate this, since he was also blending in. To the other creatures in the lab... What they could see... Or could have seen, if they had been paying attention... A piece of wall seemed to be strapped down tightly to an operating table. The virtual training helmet hung in midair, twitching and snorting occasionally. The helmet was connected to the main computer console by several wires and the console screen was displaying a progress meter. The progress meter was in the shape of a semi-circle and full of colored sections, each of which was labeled to indicate their difficulty. The labels ranged from 'Keep practicing, grasshopper' at one end to 'You have angered the zombie of Chuck Norris' at the other. The arrow was currently on one of the smaller middle sections that was labeled: 'Whaddya mean, you won't deliver pizza to a sewer grate?'

And then, with a whirr, the arrow clicked over into a more difficult middle section which was labeled: 'Substitute teacher, all-girl ninja high school. Prom week.'

Mrs. Piggy, Perry the Platypus, Dr. Bunsen, Beaker and the marachi band of burrowing owls were seated around a table, playing cards. They collectively paused as the first screams echoed through the underground.

"Oh, my." Dr Bunsen removed his geeky glasses from his eyeless face and managed to wipe the lenses clean on a dirty corner of his lab coat. He spoke with cheerful pride but also with the tone of someone who might honestly care more about their inventions than anything else. "Seems to be working."

"This is still taking too long." Mrs. Piggy grumbles, discarding a card. She nods towards the shelves full of brains in jars. "I thought you were just going to do a full transplant!"

Perry draws a card, scowls at what he's drawn and growl-quacks his agreement.

Dr. Bunsen chuckles. "Ah. No. While such an operation is of course possible, it would require an extended healing period." He puts his geeky glasses back on. "Besides, the transplanted brain does not always accept its new host. Isn't that right, Beaker?"

Beaker drops his cards and cringes until he is almost under the table. He mutters a few things in high-pitched gibberish - but zoom in enough and you wouldn't need any translation. Just under his slightly charred hairline, you'd see the marks encircling his skull. Pan over and you might notice an empty jar among the many others on the shelves, an empty jar that still had Beakers name on it.

"Now, now. It was necessary research!" Dr. Bunsen reaches down to pat his assistant comfortingly on the head. "And I did get you put back together, didn't I? I always do, correct?"

Beaker gradually gathers his cards from the floor and returns to his seat, still muttering in high-pitched gibberish but with a more forgiving tone.

Dr. Bunsen smiles. "So you see, virtual training is truly the most efficient path for -"

At this precise moment Dr. Bunsen is interrupted by all of the lights in the underground tunnel flickering. Once, twice, gone.

" - oh my." Dr. Bunsen finishes.

A moment of silence. No whirring fans or swiveling security cameras or bubbling chemicals, which was the typical background ambiance here. Just several sets of wide eyes - and one set of geeky glasses - glowing in the dark.

The ground shakes.

After a few tense seconds, the power returns. However the lights are still flickering. And the computers are restarting. The screens go from dark to wavy. A beeping security alarm connects to the system and a skewed video feed comes up on a nearby screen. The video shows a golden robot that is surrounded by people bowing down to it.

Mrs. Piggy blinks. She recognizes the casino. She should, she was there only a few chapters ago. "That's next door!"

The ground shakes again. The power surges again.

Perry assumes that the golden robot must be evil and so he darts off to the rescue without even pausing to consider what kind of challenges he might face there. The burrowing owls tuck their cards under their wide-brimmed hats and strike up some appropriately daring heroic music, marachi style. Beaker decides to go back under the table.

Then a calm pleasant digital voice comes on over the intercom. "Welcome to Muppet Labs. Congratulations, the timed course for ancient legendary pokemon training has been activated. Mission: You have three point seven minutes to collect all of the secret mystery prizes and find the exit. Failure to do so will result in the whole course self-destructing. The countdown has already begun. Have a nice day."

Mrs. Piggy leans towards the resident scientist. "Any way to turn that off?"

"Well..." Dr. Bunsen says thoughtfully.

From beneath the table, Beaker raises a trembling hand and points in the direction of the maze.

Mrs. Piggy scowls. "Any OTHER way to turn that off?"

"Once it's activated? Uhm. No." With the calm and cheerful air of someone who could probably survive an entire city going up in smoke, Dr. Bunsen smiles. "It's rather good, isn't it? Won't even shut down if we lose power. Thought that would make the training too easy and - "

Mrs. Piggy bats her eyelashes and applies a chokehold. "Turn. It. Off." Her tone of voice made it clear that even someone who might be able to survive an entire city going up in smoke would not be able to survive her wrath. Meanwhile her chokehold was a silent reminder that she could, on a whim, fling creatures through solid objects. Like walls. And tables. And computer consoles. All of which were options here.

"Whoa!" One of the burrowing owls holds up a feathered hand to pause the marachi music. He blinks and tilts his head so that his short ears are pointing across the hall. "Is kinda quiet over there, yes? Ought we not to go check on that guy?"

Dr. Bunsen, his normally pale green skin now turning tie-dye patterns due to choking, manages to squeak. "...!"

Mrs. Piggy sighs, glares at the countdown on the still-wavy computer screen and releases the scientist. She understood that the scientist wouldn't be able to work if she seriously injured him right now but promised herself that she would have to seriously injure him later. Being a leader, she knew how to choose her battles.

As soon as Dr. Bunsen had caught his breath, he began to rush towards the operating room. "That's it! We might be able to access and edit the core maze program through the virtual training module! As long as we don't lose..."

The power flickered again.

"Beaker!" Dr. Bunsen spoke with the tones of someone who loved a good challenge, even if he'd had to be slightly strangled in order to accept it as a good challenge. "Activate the back up power generator!"

The back up power generator is a large hamster cage. With a circular treadmill. Beaker has to get the cage out of storage and then shake the contents a few times, to wake the hamster. The fuzzy little rodent finally pokes its head out of a pile of sawdust and, grumbling sleepily in its own language, slowly waddles over to treadmill. This creature does not look or act like something that should be capable of any speed at all. But when the hamster runs... the treadmill blurs...and the power stays on.

Being plugged into the system, Espio had no idea what was happening. He couldn't see or hear the world outside the computer. A moment ago, he'd been trapped in a virtual all-girl ninja high school during prom week which was a trauma that he did not care to dwell on or ever have repeated. And a few seconds ago, he was pretty sure that he'd seen a disturbing video feed from inside the casino. Espio had more than a few creative thoughts about that. But now the screen that filled his vision was dark and flickering and none of the controls were responding very well. Was the program over? Had he passed all the levels? Was he legendary? No, that couldn't be it. The ending had been too abrupt. Someone must have interrupted his training. Was he going to be rescued?

Who could rescue him? Who even knew that he was here? All of his friends... As far as Espio was aware... Right now, they had their own troubles. And he hadn't been able to help any of them, Espio reflected. So why should anyone bother with rescuing him? Maybe he didn't even deserve to be rescued. He hadn't made it out to the island to see what was going on there and if Knuckles needed any help. He hadn't been able to stop the little rabbit girl from capturing Vector and Charmy. He certainly wasn't protecting any of the casino customers - WHY had they been bowing down to Mecha?! What had the robot done to them?! And since when could the robot go super?! Argh. If Rouge didn't just fire him then he should probably resign, that would be the honorable thing to do. If he survived. If any of them survived.

He was eighteen. He wanted to survive.

Why?

Espio was vaguely aware of quite a lot more wires being attached to him and flinched. He made an attempt to escape but he was still sleep deprived, stressed and wearing rather a lot of wall. Plus the considerable amount of forced virtual training had gotten him into the habit of entering computer commands instead of actually struggling. So he didn't escape.

The power began to stabilize, the screen was no longer flickering. Espio noticed that he was not being returned to the ninja high school and was grateful for this. While waiting to see what would come up next and needing something to focus on that would help him try to stay both awake and calm, the ninja allowed his focus to return to his thoughts. Tired and stressed though he was, he was thinking a little more clearly.

Eighteen years old... And what did he have to show for it? Comparison was not the healthiest habit to get into but to a certain extent it was unavoidable. So many of the creatures that the chameleon knew... Their lives had worth. They had done big important things. They had already accomplished so much. Rouge was only a year older than him and even if the casino was leveled, she could probably afford to retire to her own private continent if she wanted to. Knuckles was perhaps a year younger than him and even if the floating island blew up, the guardian would likely always be remembered for helping to save the world. Sonic, who was three years younger, had apparently been saving the world for his whole life. Even Vector, only three years older, still got recognition for the work that he had done back in the days when he'd been in a band. But Espio... All that he had to live for, he felt, was honor. Honor and a certain amount of unfinished business.

He owed a lot to his friends. He owed a lot to his teachers. He even owed a few specific things to his enemies. And he sincerely did not want to die without settling all of his debts. Especially the debts with his enemies. He just...had never...enjoyed fighting and...

With a staticky beep and a whirr, the computer interrupted his thoughts. Bright lines of code appeared against the darkness, filling his vision and rapidly scrolling upwards before blurring away. Espio watched with increasing anxiety as the most enormous virtual maze began to take shape in front of him. A whole complex underground city, just riddled with twisting paths and imaginative hazards and... a little clock in the corner that was already counting down?! What?!

The word START! flashed in the center of the screen.

Espio stared at it in disbelief. They had to be kidding! He couldn't...! Gather the secret mystery prizes? But he didn't even know what the secret mystery prizes were! How was he supposed to find them if he didn't even know what he was looking for?! How was he supposed to collect them all if he had no idea how many there were in total? And the maze wasn't even finished loading yet! And the clock was already ticking and... Wait. This was a virtual version of the maze, right? So if he failed then would it be a virtual self-destruct? Would the computer just restart? Or was he in real danger here? Was the whole city...?!

The chameleon knew that he wouldn't be able to hear the answer but he had to try and ask, anyway. "What happens if..."

Unfortunately, as mentioned earlier, the Muppet Labs have crossed a few files with old outdated PokeMon League records. And the very important thing about old outdated PokeMon League records was that they were infected - remember? Deep inside the infected files, something had been hibernating. Healing. Gathering it's energy. Biding it's time. Now... Due to the power surges... It started to wake up.

A new screen, in the shape of a chicken since apparently that was the muppet security logo, came up. The screen read: Warning! Unknown virus has been detected! Shut down recommended. Disconnecting... Closing all programs...

More beeping and whirring. An arrow appeared on the screen. Then a text box with a blinking cursor. Espio watched in horror. He'd dealt with computers enough to understand what he was watching. No, he did not consider himself a technical type of creature. Though that was a common mistake. Just because his skin - when he wasn't blending in with a wall somewhere - was a shade of purple, sometimes people assumed... And that was a strange stereotype, actually, because the undisputed technical genius of their world was orange and practically everyone knew that. Still. While he wasn't precisely a mechanic, hacker or inventor... Espio wasn't entirely ignorant on technical matters, either. He'd learned a great deal over the course of many adventures. More than once, he'd had to learn fast. Especially at the casino.

So what he was watching... Someone was attempting to override the security program. The security program had to ask if they really wanted to do this and demanded each encrypted password in triplicate. And then it began looping. Each time the security program was closed, a fresh warning would come up. And all the while... The virtual maze remained frozen in the background, out of reach. With the little clock in the corner still visible and still counting down.

Espio went through a quick mental checklist, weighing the pros and cons. He was beyond tired. He wasn't sure when he'd last eaten and had long ago lost track of when he'd last slept decently. The wires attached to him itched and the wall attached to him ached. His mind was stressed to the point where he was prepared to approach calmness from a different direction. All in all, he was not currently in the best shape - but neither was the world, as far as he knew. And he didn't have the option of blending in or running away, here. He didn't have a leader to follow. He couldn't just stand back and let someone else do the fighting because there was no one else. He'd been politely avoiding serious confrontations for most of his life however he didn't think that running away was honorable or even possible, under the circumstances. And if there was any chance that the whole real city was actually going to blow up when that little clock reached zero... Even if he somehow managed to escape... Even if he managed to break away from the wall, the straps, the operating table, the virtual training helmet and every single itching wire... Even if he managed to get out of the tunnels... Espio could certainly be fast, when he needed to but he wasn't a hedgehog. Even with a disturbing motorcycle on showcase in the lab, just waiting for an excuse to be mentioned... Espio doubted that he could get out of the city before it went up in smoke.

So if escape was not likely to be a viable option... Then what he had to do instead...

Espio was still plugged into the system. In fact, thanks to all the additional wires, he was more plugged into the system than before. He couldn't currently see or hear the world outside the computer but he understood that whomever was trying to type things into the computer - their efforts were not working. If he wanted for, among other things, his own life to be safe then he had to try and save it. Right now. So Espio gave the controls that he'd learned during his virtual training a try. And then, with slightly more urgency, he gave all the other computer commands that he'd ever used anywhere a try.

Including a password that he'd learned during an adventure on a spacestation. Espio still remembered that password. He'd always thought that it was kind of weird. Why had the brilliant but twisted geniuses that had lived on the spacestation chosen such a simple password? A little girls name, of all things.

Maria.

The result was instant. The computer froze. Well, to anyone outside of the computer - that's what happened. People outside the computer could see what was on the screen and what was on the screen wasn't changing anymore. The countdown on the maze stopped. That program was paused, along with everything else. Outside commands were being ignored. But deep inside the computer... Behind the screens... Two powers collided. A complex battle was taking place at speeds that only computers and maybe hedgehogs could have kept up with. Because the virus waking up inside the Muppet Labs was called the Pokerus. And as far as this semi-digital disease was concerned, Espio was the most important part of the network. But the network now literally had a mind of it's own.

An ultimate mind.

Being plugged in, Espio was aware of the battle. He wasn't quite sure how or why the network had responded to the password like this but what he did understand was... If the network lost... Then the Pokerus... Even though it was not really a visible thing, the digital virus managed to seem like a predator. And Espio was a chameleon ninja so he was able - thanks to natural instincts and battle training - to recognize the predatory energy. So he knew without a doubt that the virus would be after him, next. So again, he had to either fight or flee. And trying to flee hadn't worked. He tried it again, anyway. It still wasn't working. So... Reluctantly, again... Espio decided that he might as well figure out how to join the battle and help the network.

The sooner, the better.

**ooxoo**

**Further Disclaimer:** No habla Espanol, sorry. I do respectfully adore the language though and am currently relying on the most...uniquely useful...phrasebooks that I have found. My primary source is a semi-generic 'words to know' type volume for aspiring tourists but it does also include such phrases as: "Espere, busco la palabra en esta libro." Which apparently means: "Wait, I am looking for the word in this book." My secondary source is an appendix from a volume called _The Worst Case Scenario Survival Handbook_. Because it seemed fitting.

**ooxoo**


	12. 5:3

_**Poked**_

**by DoraMouse**

**ooxoo**

**5:3**

**Extra Special Political Coverage!**

**H**ere's an office. Just a small one. Cluttered with heavy books, overstuffed filing cabinets, ringing phones and jammed fax machines. There seems to be a constant stream of people coming and going, taking and leaving stacks of paper, having disjointed conversations. Oh, and there's also a wooden desk. With a smoldering ashtray on it. And a regal throne behind it. And a framed photo of the President, hanging on a nearby wall. Plus a few other trinkets that the desk has acquired from its ongoing travels. There is now a slightly battered steel ladder leaning against the throne, a teacup with the engraved slogan 'wish ewe were here' next to the ashtray and, hardly noticeable amid all the papers, a priceless antique jade bowl which contains a tiny sleeping kitten.

The pimply human intern currently sitting behind this desk squinted critically down at the creatures standing in front of the desk. "Say, aren't you a little bit young to be running for president?"

For the first time in this story Knuckles has a reason to sound triumphant. "SEE?! I KNEW that seventeen wasn't-"

"Seventeen by which calendar?" prompts the pimply intern.

"Gosh, yea. We forgot to ask." Rocky speaks with a thoughtful tone. "Are you seventeen in _human_ years? Or seventeen in _wolverine_ years?"

Knuckles is bewildered. And stumped. And frustrated, to be stumped. And disturbed, to have so much of his life unraveling.

The passing of time... Knuckles knew that he'd been the Guardian for many seasons but that was just a rough measurement. Nothing precise. The floating island that he called home - that place which he had guarded for as long as he could remember - was full of unstable magic and capable of independant travel. Hence the seasons on the island were numerous and unique. Time passed differently, there. And Knuckles had spent the majority of his life in isolation. So it wasn't as if he could just go home and ask his parents - or anyone else - about when he was born. IF he'd even been born.

Knuckles did NOT want to contemplate that option right now.

The point was that he had grown up using the ancient echidna calendar to try and keep track of time. And since Knuckles had taught himself how to read, his translations of the ancient language might not have been totally accurate. But Knuckles hadn't even known about the standard calendars of modern society before getting involved in the adventures to save the world. And even after learning about the standard calendars of the modern world, he doubted that their measurements of time could be applied to his home. And so despite the fact that Knuckles had been given the opportunity to see the future and the past and visit parallel worlds inhabited by other versions of himself... He had always been fairly certain of his own age. But never _completely_ certain. Seventeen was just his best guess. Seventeen had sounded about right.

Age was just another subject where, Knuckles hated to admit, he could be wrong. Adding the species factor into the mix didn't help.

"Heard that a dog can age seven whole years in just one human year." says a random passerby with a stack of paperwork. "Doesn't really seem fair to the dogs, if you ask me."

For anyone wondering, Bullwinkle has been left outside. The moose is too tall to fit into this office. However he has probably found something to keep him busy while waiting outside. Both the noise of helicopters passing low overhead and a significant increase in the number of ringing phones should probably serve as a warning. Also audible, to those with a better-than-human range of hearing, was the unique sound of delicate nerves being heavily trod upon.

"So in dog years, you'd be... Lets see, seventeen multiplied by seven..." Rocky has been alive for longer than calculators have been common place so he can do the mental math. He is aware of the fact that Bullwinkle may be drawing a crowd outside of the office but doesn't seem too worried about his friend. The moose could not be easily lost in a crowd. "Over a hundred, huh?" The squirrel allows a cautious smile to creep into his features. "That would be old enough, wouldn't it?"

"Yes." says the intern, hardly looking up from the ever-changing stacks of paperwork. "Yes, it would."

"I am NOT a dog!" Knuckles winces and tries to fold his arms. Taking on a slightly grumpy defensive posture, out of habit. His broken arm does not allow this for very long. "And there is NO WAY that I am THAT old."

"Just bring in a birth certificate and at least one other valid proof of citizenship and..." drones the intern.

"Look, I don't HAVE -" What Knuckles doesn't have is the chance to finish this sentence because a monsterous dumptruck backs up to a wide open window and buries him alive in paperwork.

The humans passing in and out of the room - but not the black clad team of special ops that hustles down a wall and jogs off in the direction of a certain moose - are now up to their waists in paper. Nobody reacts to this. The people just continue about their business. Rocky lands on the new floor and is now at eye level with the intern sitting at the desk.

"These are just the standard forms, you understand." says the intern in a bored dismissive monotone. "Get them filled out and returned as soon as possible. In triplicate. Even the form that you have to sign in blood, we want that in triplicate. Oh and try to make sure it's just your own blood, all right? Less hassle that way. Include all the necessary attachments and have them organized alpha-numerically in chronological order. You will need a certified check to cover the first installment of fees because of course we do charge fees for processing all of this vital paperwork. And once the check clears... Well! THEN we'll see if we can get you a place at the next round of the debates." The intern offers the closest thing to an encouraging smile that this job has left him capable of. The resulting expression would be suitable for one of those low budget horror films where the monster is eating the victims brain. "It's just that easy!"

A muffled scraping noise becomes audible. This indicates that someone clever might be attempting to escape by burrowing through the actual floor.

"Didn't the Military Gallery of Extremely Sharp Objects recently open downstairs?" asks a random person passing through.

"Why yes, yes it did." replies another random worker, "And the gift shop is fabulous."

The muffled scraping noises stop. Unfortunately the actual floor was under considerable stress to begin with. The entire room creaks. Ominously.

Rocket J. Squirrel, living moral compass, ignores this. He picks up a handful of forms and glances through their titles. Most of the forms seemed to be focused on the release of personal information. Work history, school history, family history. Medical records, criminal records, one-hit wonder records. Wait, what? Rocky blinked. He continues scanning the forms. His gray brow creases in concern. Apparently the government reserved the right to use anything that you had ever even thought about saying against you. Apparently even though the government had passed many laws in an attempt to make all forms of discrimination illegal... In the fine print it was made very clear that they wanted to be exceptionally discriminating, when it came to government jobs. And then...

"Hey, Mister?" Rocky held up one of the forms, "Why is there an application for a bank loan in here?"

"Only one?" The intern opens a drawer in a filing cabinet without getting up from the desk - the office is that small. He pulls out a thick folder of bank loan application forms and tosses it onto the stack. "Come back if you need more. Running for President is ridiculously expensive."

Rocky frowns. If runnning for President was ridiculously expensive... Did this mean that all of the people running for President were ridiculously wealthy? Or just in a ridiculous amount of debt? "Err. That doesn't seem like the best way to choose a person to represent..."

"It's traditional." shrugs the intern, returning his attention to the ever-changing stacks of paperwork. "If you don't like it then maybe you shouldn't be campaigning."

Rocky may be a habitual skeptic who wouldn't know evil if he tripped on it but he doesn't take such challenges lightly. And he happens to share a nickname with a fighter who is famous for being the underdog. "Hmph. Wait and see." He gathers up a heaping armload of the paperwork and leaves the office. "C'mon, Wolverine."

You hear Rocky leave the office. You hear him take about five steps. You hear him abruptly gasp "Hokey smokes!", drop the paperwork and leap into the air. You hear him yelling "BULLWINKLE! NO!" as he flies away.

There's an awkward moment of not-exactly-silence since there seem to be a lot of sirens and alarms going off outside.

A section of the office floor chooses this moment to collapse.

Knuckles finally emerges from beneath the pile of paperwork, at record speed. He is disappointed by his latest failed escape attempt and grumbles about the situation overall while he tries to recover his composure. He pauses to locate a first aid kit and, still grumbling, bandages up some serious papercuts. Then he goes to take a reluctant look over the edge of the hole in the floor. Knuckles peered down at the Military Gallery of Extremely Sharp Objects. He notices that all of the paperwork that went down has been shredded beyond recognition, fails to notice a rather important exhibit that is on loan from a British palace and tries to recover from the mild nausea of knowing that he had narrowly avoided a quick but painful death. When the floor had given away... Knuckles was a tough warrior, a champion climber and capable of gliding - normally. But when he had a broken arm... Knuckles didn't know. How well could he steer a glide with one arm in a cast? Was it even possible to climb without using both hands? Given the sort of day that Knuckles has already experienced so far, he hadn't been willing to try it.

And due to the fact that he's lived in isolation for the majority of his life, he truly does not have anything that would qualify as legal identification. No drivers license or diploma or anything. Knuckles had taught himself most everything that he knew. Including how to drive. And so he hadn't seen any reason to issue himself a diploma or a license or anything. Why worry about a license? Who was going to be checking? Who would pull him over? There wasn't anyone. He was the only resident on the island. He lived alone. Normal traffic laws didn't apply to the island. Traffic generally didn't happen, there.

On the one hand, it was perfectly sensible. Knuckles was the Guardian of a place that he would rather keep secret. It made his life easier, to try to keep the place a secret. So not existing in the paperwork of the world at large was both a good idea and a necessary security measure, to protect the island. On the other hand... If Knuckles keeled over tomorrow then who, beyond a handful of friends and enemies, would know that he had ever existed? Even the books and research papers that he'd published... All of those had been written under pen-names.

Tomorrow...

The future.

Knuckles could remember the future. He sometimes wished that he couldn't remember the future because that just sounded wrong. But he'd been on that twisted adventure. And the things that had happened on that adventure - it STILL didn't make a whole lot of sense to Knuckles. Just the sight of Silver had been enough to give Knuckles a headache. He had spent awhile privately wondering if the semi-shiny hedgehog was a robot. Or an alien.

Or worse.

Generally, Knuckles tried not to dwell on the future. He'd found the future to be a discouraging experience. For many reasons. In the future... From what little Knuckles had seen... The world was still a place that needed to be saved on a regular basis. And in the future, the kids - even the supposively psychic kids - had forgotten about the world-saving heros of the past. So the heros of this generation... HIS generation... All of their work, all their struggle and sacrifice... Were their efforts for nothing, in the long run?

That was hard not to take personally.

Yet in the end... Once the fighting had been sorted out and the world had been saved and all the rest.. The main thing about the future that had disturbed Knuckles... Were the rocks. Because Silver hadn't just been from the distant future. Silver had come from a world that didn't have a Master Emerald.

If that future... Any version of that future... Was going to be _their_ future... Then when had the Master Emerald ceased to exist? And what could have...?

Knuckles closed his eyes. The void within, the absence of energy - this feeling still persisted. What did it mean? Something MUST have happened - but what? Could the future be taking shape already? Knuckles hadn't expected that. Silver had claimed to come from roughly two hundred years after their time. So Knuckles had just assumed that sometime during that two century gap... After his own death, presumably. Not during his life. The Master Emerald couldn't just cease to exist during his life, could it? No. He was the Guardian. His honor, his whole reason for existing - he lived to protect the rock. He wouldn't - couldn't - allow... He didn't even want to think about... Just... No. Absolutely not.

_I've got to get back to the island!_ Knuckles didn't care about running for a political office. That plan hadn't been his idea to begin with. All he wanted to do was go home. The island - that was where he felt that he needed to be. Knuckles knew that the island would be a mess and he suspected that something awful must have happened to the Master Emerald but... At least if he went back to the island, he could try to solve those problems.

He was in an office.

The moose and squirrel weren't here, they were both outside the office now. The weird people in bright costumes who had tried to get Knuckles to join their specialized fighting clubs, they weren't here. They were outside the office, too. The college football team wasn't here, they were back at the college. All that was here at the moment was the intern at the desk and the random passersby with stacks of paperwork. And none of these people seemed interested in Knuckles.

Could it be? Was this a chance for a clean escape? Or was this too good to be true? Was this some kind of trap? Hrm.

He'd have to risk it.

With one broken arm, flying and gliding were probably not safe options. Climbing, digging and swimming would probably be limited. And without being able to detect the Master Emerald, Knuckles still couldn't be sure of where the island was. Which was a problem. Because he couldn't return to the island if he couldn't find the island. So in order to return to the island at all... Would he just have to run around the world visually searching for his home?

No. There had to be a better way.

Knuckles was tired. And restless. And hungry. Someone had offered him a whole enchilada a few chapters ago but he had refused to eat it. He was a smidge hesitant when it came to trying new things. Food, especially. Knuckles didn't like to accept food from strangers. He'd had to learn the hard way not to always trust food from strangers. So Knuckles hadn't eaten in a while and he hadn't gotten any proper rest since before this story started. He'd been unconscious for a bit but that hadn't been relaxing, so it didn't count as rest. Normally, these kinds of concerns didn't bother Knuckles. Perhaps it was a talent that he'd learned from hanging out with the other warriors or perhaps it was a side effect from lifelong exposure to so many unstable magical fields but his typical endurance was beyond awesome. However currently Knuckles was not having anything close to a good day, so he did not feel awesome. He was mildly distracted by pain and rising internal panic but had, somehow, reached a point where he was thinking more clearly. He had a goal. His goal was to go home. Soon. The discomfort increased his motivation. If he made it back to the island, back to isolation... Knuckles could get something to eat, at home. He knew exactly where to find medicine that would speed the healing of his arm, at home. He could get some answers about what had happened to the Master Emerald and also get some rest, eventually. Once things were secure again. Back on the island, he wouldn't have to even think about his species or his age or politics...

Much to his own surprise, Knuckles hesitates.

He honestly didn't care for this adventure but it has been strangely educational. He's had more self-discovery inflicted on him over the past few hours than he'd ever expected to have in his life. Granted, Knuckles had far more questions than answers at the moment and the journey had not been much fun. Still. A tiny part of him is tempted to stick with this path, if only for a little while longer. Because he was just a smidge curious about what he might learn next.

_What am I thinking? This is nonsense!_

For better or worse, the curiousity passed. Nothing could outrank Knuckles commitment to protect the Master Emerald. He had to find the island so that he could return home. Return to guard duty.

The growing commotion outside of the office was temporarily drown out by the noise of another helicopter passing low overhead.

Inspiration struck.

Knuckles leaves the office. The camera view doesn't. Despite the increased amount of confused noise outside it becomes possible to hear a little girl.

Did you know? Wolverines may look like small bears but in truth, they are not bears at all. They are classed into the rodent family as weasels. Large fierce weasels. Actual wild bears would sensibly run away from them. But little girls? Are you kidding?

"SWIPER, NO SWIPING!"

This gets repeated a few times and sounds almost as if it's the chorus of a song. Seems to be a popular song, too. More voices join in on each repetition.

"Awww man..." Knuckles returns to the office. He is walking with his head down and acting all dejected. Then he realizes what has just happened. Then he gets some pulsing veins of irritation. He scowls, faces towards the door, raises the spiked fist on his healthly arm and shouts. "I am NOT a weasel!"

Fate, who happens to be in the area, sighs and throws a magazine at him. National Geographic. Special Edition. The main title on the cover reads: BEWARE OF RABBITS! WE ARE NOT EVEN KIDDING! However one of the subtitles near the bottom of the cover reads: Are You A Wolverine? Take Our Fun Quiz And Find Out!

Since the magazine landed on his face and is open to the right page, Knuckles reluctantly has a look at the quiz. The first question is: Do you live in isolation? And the rest of the questions go on to describe a creature that does not hatch from an egg, is highly independant and elusive, known to patrol a large territory, capable of beating up nearly any other predator on the planet, such a good climber that it can run up a sheer cliff wall without slowing down, such a good digging scavenger that it hardly needs to hunt and such a strong swimmer that sometimes it hunts anyway. Oh and yea, the average wild wolverine has got reddish brown fur with a lighter colored crescent shaped marking on its chest. Also big claws and a mediumish tail. Plus another thin crescent marking on its back, often across its shoulders.

Knuckles can't see his own back. He's probably never seen his own back. Even with a couple of large mirrors, actually seeing his back would require lifting his long dreads out of the way. Which is not something that he's ever had a reason to do before. But Knuckles is beginning to wonder if he should go search for a couple of large mirrors. Because he suddenly wants - needs - to know if he has another crescent mark on his back. He could ask someone else to have a look and tell him but it doesn't get much more personal than this. If the mark is there at all then Knuckles wants to see it for himself. Because almost everything else on the quiz is matching up. The description of a wolverine does in fact describe him fairly well. And Knuckles is not prepared to accept that yet. He is still mentally clinging to the idea that he must be an echidna. Because while he doesn't mind being regarded as tough and skilled and all that... Knuckles didn't think of himself as a predator.

This being in spite of the violent history of the echidna ancestors, which he is aware of. So even if Knuckles was an echidna, there was some room for predatory behavior. But wolverines... They were predators with extra attitude. They flaunted their toughness. Even badgers, who were also in the rodent family and who were widely known for their rough attitudes, should run away from a wolverine. Or even just the scent of a wolverine. Possibly even just the mention of a wolverine. Especially if it was carrying a football. And...

During a battle, Knuckles didn't mind being aggressive and confident. Because if he was fighting then he always had a good reason - or sincerely believed that he had a good reason, anyway - to be in the fight. His good reasons were things like wanting to stay alive or trying save the world. So why hold back? Even if the world was not actually in danger and someone had lied and tricked him... If Knuckles didn't know that he had been tricked yet... Then he went into battle prepared to die for what he thought was the truth. But... Contrary to popular modern opinion, life was not all about the fighting. And outside of battle, during the scattered times of peace, Knuckles had generally kept to himself. He trained and practiced and tried to stay alert but it wasn't as if he went looking for trouble. Not usually. He'd had plenty enough trouble, in his life, without going out of his way to look for more of it. Because Knuckles had always lived on the floating island. And the floating island was a giant magnet for weird and dangerous events.

Trouble seemed to find him, ready or not.

Being so absorbed in re-reading the magazine quiz from different angles and wondering where he could find some mirrors and trying to convince himself that he couldn't really be a wolverine... Knuckles was not ready for what happened next. He should have been. But instead of standing still, he'd been pacing around the office without looking where he was going. So although he had narrowly escaped death only a little while ago... Even though he knew that the office was small and the hole in the floor was still right there... Even though he'd looked down on the Military Gallery of Extremely Sharp Objects with his own eyes... Even though this was not, in any way, a trick or trap... Knuckles walked - and then fell - right into it. Literally.

May the horse be with him.

**ooxoo**

**T**rue comedians are not the types of people that you should ever attempt to give directions to. Because true comedians don't follow directions. A comedy of errors is, in fact, the only type there is. Comedy would not exist without errors. The whole point of comedy is to laugh at - and maybe, hopefully, also learn from - other creatures mistakes. So if you want a true comedian to sink the Titanic then don't give them tickets for the boat. Don't even tell them about the boat. Try to keep them away from the boat. Send them to the Artic. Maybe they'll catch an iceberg. Then again, maybe they'll end up on an international space station where they'll inadvertantly press a button which causes a laser to fire towards the ocean and a glacier to break away from the ice pack and so... And that is the power of comedy when used correctly. It can level the playing field. It corrupts everything. You should never know for sure exactly where it is going. Because while a destination can be a nice thing to have... The Journey... And we're not talking about a band. Although the band named Journey does of course rock. But... Yea. The point is that travel can be educational. So the paths that must be taken in order to reach a goal are always at least as important - and often more important - than the goal itself.

Detours should be considered extra credit.

Why mention this?

First of all, because Knuckles has been teamed up with Rocky and Bullwinkle. Who were, believe it or not, comedians. Because they didn't usually consider themselves to be heros. And the moose and squirrel were already on a insightful detour of their own.

Begin a cutscene. Rocky and Bullwinkle are in the back of a police van. They have clearly been arrested. Rocky is upset but otherwise fine. He has been handcuffed to the van which limits his ability to fly off. Although the squirrel is so honorable that he probably wouldn't even think about trying to escape.

Bullwinkle might think about escaping but can't act on those thoughts right now since he has been hogtied. This means that he is laying on his stomach with his wrists and ankles tied together behind his back. The moose hardly seems concerned by his position - it's happened before - but offers his friend a mildly apologetic smile. It's only mildly apologetic since the moose doesn't really understand why he was arrested. Bullwinkle understands that his friend is upset but not why. In his own mind, he hadn't been doing anything wrong. The moose has ignored - and will probably continue to ignore - all efforts to explain the charges to him.

Rocky sighs. He knows that the odds for this working are not good but has to attempt to make his friend understand, regardless. "Bullwinkle... Listen. Please, just listen." Rocky pleads. " This is important. The writing on the wall is not always graffiti. All right? That wall back there... Bullwinkle, that was a historic monument. Those words were the Constitution."

"The Constitution?" Bullwinkle interrupts, sounding skeptical. "I thought that was on a piece of paper?"

Rocky resists the urge to say: "Yes. It is. And they have to keep the piece of paper in a safe place because paper is kinda delicate, especially when it's old. So they also carved a copy of the words onto a wall, in large print, for everyone to see. Because that document is about the government. And the government supposed to represent everyone. So the people need to be able to read it, when they want to. Okay?"

They'd already been through this discussion a few times. It wasn't going anywhere. Bullwinkle was convinced that he had been in the process of doing a public service by taking down the graffiti. The moose would get hung up on the fact that a document was not, by traditional definitions, a stone wall. And hardly anyone had been reading it anyway. Why did people get so upset? And then the moose would go off on a slightly grumpy mumbling tangent... Because editing the constitutional monument was not the only reason that he'd been arrested.

"What DID you say to those people?" Rocky asks.

Insert a flashback transition sequence here.

"I don't get it." announces Bullwinkle. He is standing with his arms folded and is surrounded by irritated people in bright costumes. They've been arguing ever since crossing paths. "How can you be ex-men? You still look like men to me. Except for those ladies over there." The moose cups his hands around his mouth and increases his volume. "Excuse me, ma'am? Did you used to be a man?"

The debate has reached a point where the so-called heros are now arguing with each other. Bullwinkle has managed to confuse a few of them to the extent that they can see things from his point of view. Thus the many violent debates now underway include such controversial topics as: Were they called ex-men because they had been dumped by their girlfriends? If so, did that make any of their girlfriends ex-women? Was changing gender and joining exclusive fight clubs really the best way to cope with failed romance?

And who had decided that having elemental powers was enough of a basis for declaring people to be mutants, anyway? Elemental skills were not so uncommon in the animal world. And regular chimpanzees were known by science to share something like ninety-eight percent of the human genetic codes. So... These self-declared mutants... Even the ones who had fur... If they still mostly looked, acted and talked human... Then they were not monkeys. What did that mean? Was the overall difference between their mutant genetics and the average persons genetics less than two percent? Were average monkeys not really a different species but just more examples of mutants? What if these people weren't mutants? What if these people had inherited their abilities? Maybe their bloodlines were just directly descended from the residents of the town that should have been named Fredrock. Or perhaps Indiana Jones was among their ancestory. But if normal humans - or aliens - had contributed to the creation of the mutants... If the mutants were man-made, even accidentally... Then why should they be wholly rejected by the very society that had made them possible? And if society was going to shun the mutants for being genetically less than two percent different from the average person... Then why should any of the mutants ever bother with saving the day, saving the city or saving the world? Did they save the world because they were, in fact, not mutants but living weapons? Were they bound on some level to wait for orders? Or did they have free wills? How thin and blurry was that line?

End the flashback.

Rocky, who is capable of seeing flashbacks, sighs again. "I can't take you anywhere." He grumbles but in the affectionate tone of a worried near-sibling.

"Well, actually..." says Bullwinkle, who is still hogtied. Or should that be moosetied? Anyway. He can't walk by himself. But if someone could carry him...

"Nah-uh. Handcuffed to the van, remember?" Rocky jangles the handcuffs for emphasis. "Besides, we'd get in trouble. MORE trouble. And we're already in too much! So whatever you're thinking: NO."

"Handcuffs?" Bullwinkle squints. "But Roc, they're on your feet."

The squirrel glances at his ankles. "Well, yes. That's true. But..."

"Handcuffs don't belong on your feet! They belong on your hands! Everyone knows that."

A short pause, as if to give the handcuffs time to consider this.

Then the completely normal, inanimate, man-made handcuffs abruptly fall off.

Bullwinkle is setting a new personal record for the amount of things he can defeat in a single day with sheer ignorance. He ignores this. Instead the moose snorts. "See? What'd I tell ya? Now c'mon, Rocky, I have a plan."

"Hmf. Thought I was the team leader." mutters Rocky while rubbing some feeling back into his ankles and doing his best to sound reluctant. He really does not want to escape. Ethics and honor aside, he knows that they would probably be safer here - arrested - than doing whatever the moose has planned. However he also knows that ignoring the plan might be more dangerous than trying to ignore someone who was the master of ignoring things. Rocky had a lot of skills but he just couldn't out-ignore the moose. And the moose was, after all, his friend. And no matter how zany the plans, they usually did manage to get out of trouble eventually and...

"Okay, okay." Rocky swishes his tail and straightens his blue aviators cap. "Sheesh! Let's just get this over with! Uh..." The squirrel is immediately confronted with the idea that even if he is going to escape, he does not want to have to lift a moose for very long. He was capable of this feat and practiced at it but still... Rocky hesitates. "Bullwinkle, are you really sure about this? Couldn't I just untie you?"

"Oh..." The moose realizes. "Good idea. Hadn't thought of that."

Exasperated, Rocky slaps his own forehead.

Team Rocket does not exactly blast off again. But they are on the move.

End the cutscene.

Yup. All that was just a cutscene.

Because, as we were saying earlier, great comedians rarely take direct routes. Indirect routes and detours tend to be more interesting and so...

The ghost of Peter Griffin has also taken a detour. Being Peter Griffin, how could he not? Peter has threatened to run for a political office which means that if he was alive then he'd probably end up annoying some random stranger by breaking into their house, raiding their fridge, making a mess, hogging the remote for their tv, insulting their friends, offending their family and sleeping on their couch.

Perhaps fortunately, he seems to be a little more focused when he is dead. Not much. Just a little. He had stopped a few times to haunt people and play immature practical jokes on the way here. But at least 'here' is a building called Capitol Hill.

The World Government had not always belonged to the whole world and most of the important political buildings were old. So they didn't reflect the whole world, either. They reflected the old ways. Capitol Hill - and with a name like that you know it has to be capitalized, even if no one really respects it - was the place where the government representatives gathered to pass laws. The old building was not big enough - physically or mentally, it seemed - to actually contain representatives from the whole world. But the laws for the world citizens, represented or not, still got passed here. When the lawmakers felt like working, anyway.

Inside Capitol Hill... Peter is up front, wearing the superman costume that's too small for him and floating behind a podium that has a microphone on it. "Hello? Is this thing on?" He taps the microphone a few times. The microphone squeals. The ghost IS audible here. "Okay. Was just wondering: if I were to ask all of you to throw yourselves off a cliff... And I'd be willing to ask nicely!" Peter adds in cheerful but serious tones. "We could even make it a game show, if you wanted! Think of the publicity! It would be so good for your approval ratings! And parachutes? Of COURSE you can all have parachutes! Golden parachutes! Here!" Peter pulls a golden parachute out of thin air and tosses it onto a nearby table. The table snaps in half. He points. "See? Solid gold!"

A senator who is awake and sitting behind the podium where Peter has been floating leans into his own microphone. "Security."

The buff security guard arrives via a flying somersault. He flings himself under a chair and then prowls around for a while with at least three guns drawn, never showing more than the very top of his head over any piece of furniture. Perhaps because of these maneuvers the guard completely fails to see the ghost. However, since he is spending so much time near the floor, the guard does eventually notice the parachute. "Whoa! Hey! Is that solid gold?" The guard cautiously crawls over to the parachute and does a few tests which include tapping on the metal, tasting it and then nearly destroying his back as he attempts to lift his prize. It takes him a couple of tries - and some accidental gunshots - before he grasps the idea that it might help to put his weapons away. "All right! I'm outta here!"

And so, very slowly because solid gold is heavy, the security guard goes limping off to the nearest bank. Laughing all the way. Uhm. Well, about half of the way. Then he drops the golden parachute on his foot and someone has to call an ambulance for him. Gotham City Hospital is not the nearest medical facility to this location but their ambulance responds to the call with frightening speed. Although perhaps it is not correct to call it an ambulance anymore. Technically, the vehicle now appears to be a hearse. The driver actually runs their new patient over before going back to pick him up.

"Ooo. That's gonna leave a mark." winces Peter, having watched all this. Then he smirks and decides to smugly taunt the senator who had summoned the security guard. "So who are you gonna call now?"

Zoom out.

A city street full of busy random citizens who are complete strangers to each other suddenly pause to strike a Broadway-worthy group victory pose. They happily shout - without really knowing why - a single word. "GHOSTBUSTERS!"

Zoom in.

"Huh. Really?" Peter blinks. "I thought those guys were dead."

Begin a cutscene. Don't worry. This will be a short cutscene. Yes, the Ghostbusters are all here. In full ghost-fighting uniform. Yes, they are also all dead. Judging by the sheer amount of carnage in the scene around them, they might have been - for a fraction of a nanosecond - on the same road as the Batmobile. Earlier. While it was warping. So the Ghostbusters are now ghosts. Ironic, don't you agree? They hover around in bewildered silence and then one of them starts to mutter: "Guess we should have known... I mean, what with us being mortal... This was bound to happen eventually." End the cutscene.

"HA! KNEW IT!" The ghost of Peter strikes a victory pose. It's not Broadway-worthy.

Then Peter notices that more of the senators are awake now. And they appear to be passing a piece of paper around the room, taking turns to sign their names on it. So by the time this piece of paper arrives at the podium of the senator behind Peter... It's a new law. Which says that ghosts are not allowed to be inside government buildings. It goes into effect immediately.

Without moving by his own will, Peter reappears outside the building. Just like that. He floats there in stunned disbelief. "They did NOT just... They CAN'T just... HOW did they?!" He tries to go back inside. He can't. Now he starts to get angry. Peter shakes a ghostly fist at Capitol Hill. "Oh yeah?! Well just wait until I'm President! You'll HAVE to respect me when - "

A front door creaks open. A senator peers out, coughs and corrects him. "Ah. No. No, we won't." The senator perhaps should have paused to laugh like a crazed madman and there maybe should have been a sudden dramatic lightening storm - but there isn't. Possibly those things are illegal here, too. They'd probably be happening all the time, otherwise.

The front door closes.

Peter replaces his anger with sarcasm. "Nice to know the power hasn't corrupted you!" He yells in the direction of the closed door.

No response.

Hence Peter gets the distinct - and correct - feeling that he is being ignored. And Peter does not like being ignored. He had tolerated being mostly ignored by the government that he'd paid to represent him when he was alive because that was just what almost everyone else did and Peter was always struggling to fit in and besides, he'd had a life. But, just as a reminder, Peter is dead now. He does not have a life anymore. Therefore, he does not have the same concerns. He does not have to try and impress his wife, keep up with the neighbors, maintain a friendship with his dog or even pretend to be interested in any of his own children. None of those distractions. Things had changed. And Peter is not sure if the government that had failed to represent him while he was alive was even supposed to try and represent him while he was dead. So Peter had questions. He wanted answers. Even if the answers turned out to be something that he had to make up, that would be acceptable. What wasn't acceptable anymore was being ignored. That's what he decided.

Peter tries to think of something that he can do, to get some attention. And get some revenge. And he does have some good creative ideas. However what Peter realizes next is that the building called Capitol Hill may be old but it is still here and that is significant because the government has been unpopular for a long time. Others had probably tried various schemes. Nothing had worked. Because if you only got rid of the physical building, that might not change the people. And even if you managed to get rid of the people... Some form of government had always been needed and so other people would have to come along and... Was corruption just inevitable?

It was starting to seem like a very complex problem indeed.

Then Fate, who is not ghostly, walks through Peter. And pauses a few feet away to tie some crime scene tape to a pole. This whole area is already roped off with crime scene tape.

"...oh..." Peter has never seen Fate before but he does know what foreshadowing is. So he starts to back away cautiously and nearly trips over Mythology, who is busy installing a large neon flashing sign. The bright message reads: DOOMED. "...wow... okay... Well, as long as this is being handled." Peter strikes a classic if ghostly about-to-run-away-screaming pose. "Guess Brian was right. I'll just be going, then."

He floats away. Screaming.

**ooxoo**

**J**ust how many rabbits are there, anyway?

Do you really want to know?

Because, the problem is, no one knows for sure. We might have to invent new numbers. And then we might have to invent something that can try to count to those new numbers, without being distracted by cuteness or constant motion or dimension-bending oddness. Which was a common family trait. Oh, sure. There WERE some nice normal garden variety rabbits. Just floppy ears and twitching noses and sweet innocent eyes with a mouthful of fresh - hey, has anyone seen dear old aunties prized fern? But those, actually, were the minority in this family.

And it was a large family.

You have no idea.

Get comfortable. This might take awhile.

There were rabbits of all shapes and sizes, all colors and professions. Some went about on four legs but some went about on two legs. Others had more legs and others had less. And even the ones who had legs didn't always use them - some hopped around on their ears. Most of them spoke. More than a few of them had accents. There were rabbit teachers and explorers, dentists and lawyers, cowboys and cheerleaders and comedians. There were rabbit merchants and jewelers, samurai and duelers, poets and prize fighters and playboys. Cute bunny girl scouts and swift bunny ninjas. Pretty ballerinas and fearless stunt doubles. Clever detectives and scary nurses. Hearty pirates and flexible gymnasts. Rabbits had their own celebrities. They had their own royalty. They even had a Care Bear Cousin.

There was an energetic pink-furred drummer, he just kept going. But he was not the only musician, oh no. There were plenty of rabbit musicians. Some of them used their ears to help them play their instruments and others seemed to have their instruments built-in. There were rabbits who had such long legs that when they walked they made a noise like an accordian unfolding. There were rabbits who could shake their tails to make a sound like a tambourine. Others could strum their ears or twitch their whiskers to create a melody and tap their feet for percussion. The rabbits could play every style of music that had ever been invented - they had their own orchestra, marching band and tribal drumming association - but lately they seemed to be fond of hip hop. Rather a lot of them had become millionaries, thanks to hip hop. Even the radio rabbits - who could plug their tails into an electrical outlet, use their whiskers to tune into a station and then blast the music out through their ears - seemed to favor hip hop.

There were evil bunnies and happy bunnies and rainbow bunnies, too. There were robots, including an obscure resident of the Muppet Labs. There were half robots and former robots, including a warrior with a heavy accent who had once lived in a village hidden in a forest. There was an infamous green-furred mercenary who also had a heavy accent and who might have destroyed a few villages. There were rabbits large enough be ridden like horses and other rabbits who rode on them. There were rabbits who were artists and rabbits who were works of art. There were hair stylists and also just hares who had style. There were bunnies who appeared to be escaped science experiments and also geeky bunnies, who conducted their own science experiments - when they weren't playing video games. There were magical rabbits, who could cast their own spells and other rabbits who were apparently the result of different spells - or at least the result of hat tricks.

There were acres of polite bunnies in old fashioned clothing. Girls in tall bonnets and long frilly dresses. Boys wearing stiff vests and formal dinner jackets. Some of the boys wore ties and monocles, some wore powdered wigs and more than a few had old fashioned pocketwatches on long chains. There were all the little wild rabbits who wore next to nothing - maybe just a scarf or a hair ribbon - gathering around to form a truly massive woodland choir. They needed a truly massive choir just to be heard over so much music. There was a particularly grumpy old rabbit who kept to himself since he had once lost a race to a turtle and nobody was ever going to let him forget that. There was an ongoing debate about whether a lucky rabbits foot was the one that you kept or the one that you gave away. But it wasn't much of a debate anymore because...

There were divine rabbits. Several of them. Good Luck, check. Bad Luck, check. Shapeshifting tricksters, check. Wise healers who specialize in regenerating feet, check. Rabbit girl who lives on the moon, check. Rabbit boy who lives on the sun, check. Rabbit dancers of the plains who make the seasons possible, check. Elemental rabbits who actually represent each of the seasons, check. Epileptic tornado-chasing bunnies of revelations, check. Meditative thousand-earred rabbit of enlightenment, check. Hare E. Krishna, check. Fertility - check, check, check, check, check... Because the whole point of fertility was to have an abundance, wasn't it?

Fate, check. Mythology, check. But they had only been here for a moment, to check on things.

And the zodiac... That wasn't just one rabbit up there. It was ten. At least ten. Because there were five elements and two aspects to each sign... A passive water year and an aggressive earth year just could not be represented by the same rabbit. Besides, in case you haven't noticed, the rabbits prefer to travel in groups.

Someone had probably told the rabbits that there was safety in numbers. So they had, as a species, taken the advice to heart - and then to extremes.

There were Easter rabbits, dynasties of them, and they were not just from the Easter Islands. There were too many of them for just the Easter Islands. Some members of the Easter clan looked rather plain but others were as decorated as the eggs that they were so famous for handing out. They were skilled at making colorful baskets and known for playing hide-and seek. Although in truth all the little rabbit children knew how to play hide-and-seek. Rabbit children were also considered experts at hopscotch and had some of the most impressive professional jump rope teams.

There were cottontails and woolly tails and glow-in-the-dark tails. There were ponytails and pigtails, afros and mohawks. There were even a few mustaches. And then there were jackalopes. And the jackalopes had more than one style of horns these days - it wasn't just antelope antlers anymore - so there were jackamoose and jackarein and hijack and unijacks too. And that was just the beginning. There were all sorts of other rabbit hybrids. Everyone knows about the common wallaby, kangaroo and donkey. But the long necked giraffabbit and stripey zebrare were becoming more popular as well. Yet even the more exotic hybrids, such as the octobunny, were considered somewhat mundane in this family. Because with so many rabbits in the world, they lived on every continent. So there were parts of this family that had not been able to avoid being exposed to unstable magical fields. Repeatedly. So nowadays... There were zombunnies and crash test bunnies and frankenbunnies and dinobunnies and merabbits to contend with. There were triclops and cyclops and blind martial arts masters. There were loch ness bunnies and abominable snow bunnies and bigfoot. Of course there was bigfoot. If the media had ever paid attention to bigfoots ears instead of just raving about the size of the creatures footprint, they might have worked it out sooner. Anyway. Bigfoot was probably just a mild genetic variation on Harvey, the invisible but good humored rabbit equivalent of a guardian spirit. Because despite not being visible, Harvey was known to be more than seven feet tall.

And what if Harvey wasn't the lone member of his species? Does anyone even want to try to estimate the number of invisible rabbits?

Have you got a headache yet? No? Okay. Keep reading.

There were flying rabbits. Entire tribes of them. Rabbits who flew by flapping or rotating their ears were few and far between but they were still here. Most of the flying rabbits were just humanoid creatures with a valid pilots license. Others were astronauts and others were aliens. There were superheros in bright costumes. There were thrillseekers who wore rockets strapped to their backs. There were hoverbunnies, who looked ordinary until you realized that they were levitating and legless. There were other rabbits that happened to resemble flying carpets, kites, blimps, balloons or fluffy clouds. There were countless rabbits who were half-bird, half-insect, semi-dragon, part-fairy and/or part-cupid - all of whom had wings. There were angel bunnies, who also had wings but didn't seem to need to use them. And there were bunniculas, pale creatures with red eyes and the vampiric tendancy to bite their food only once, whose wings weren't always visible.

There were velveteen rabbits and patchwork rabbits and dust bunnies. The dust bunnies by themselves could have colonized another galaxy with ease but they didn't really need to. Because the dust bunnies were not even the smallest members of the rabbit family. Think about bacteria. Think about sub-atomic particles. Look at them with a microscope. What are they doing? Wiggling around, yes? Hopping, perhaps? Eating and multiplying, correct? Hrm. That's kind of rabbit-y behavior, wouldn't you say?

They were _everywhere._

In an extended family reunion - for this family - there are going to be old television sets with rabbit ears, okay? Every music group, theater group, counseling group, athletic team, school, business and event that has ever chosen to represent itself with anything that even remotely resembles a rabbit will get an invitation. Everyone whose professional title includes the word Rabbi, they're invited. Any creature who has ever worn any kind of rabbit costume or even just a pair of false bunny ears for any reason is going to have the sudden desire to scratch their nose and eat more vegetables. Anyone wearing bunny slippers is going to be dragged here, screaming all the way, by their newly sentient footwear. Any plant that has been named after a rabbit, any rock formation that has been compared to a rabbit, any shrub that has been trimmed to look like a rabbit, any inanimate object that includes a rabbit design or reference - it's going to be here. Yes, there's even going to be a disgruntled saiyan warrior hanging around somewhere in the background. He will perhaps patiently try to explain that just because his saiyan name is Kakarotto and his favorite color is orange that should not automatically imply any sort of rabbit connection whatsoever. But his father was a were-monkey and he never met his mother, so who knows. Maybe there's some were-rabbit in him.

There would have been all the members from more than three dozen separate pokemon species here, if they hadn't gone extinct at least a hundred years ago. And maybe they should have been here anyway, as ghosts. But they aren't. And neither are most of the man-made genetic pokemon species. Even the ones that should have been here - most of the new pokemon didn't really know or understand about traveling to other dimensions. So they're not here. And that's okay. Perhaps it's just as well that they can't make it. The town had been a Busy Town to begin with.

In the midst of the gathering was Vanilla. She was glad that she'd kept the special family recipe for endless carrot cake. At least everyone would have a chance to eat. Although, as it turned out, she was not the only one providing food for the reunion. During her childhood, the majority of her brothers had not shown a lot of interest in cooking. Therefore Vanilla had been surprised to learn that several of her brothers had ended up working in the food industry. She looked at them.

Trix was among the most famous. He deserved it. He had done a lot of complex study and research in order to prove that kids don't want the food you give them, oh no. Kids want what YOU are eating. Put a bowl of food in front of a kid and they will just ignore it or play with it or throw it back at you. But if you were eating something... If the kids had to take it away from you... Then suddenly the food was a prize that they had won and they didn't want to give it back or even share. So they ate it. No fuss. Trix had made his fortune based on this principle. His company mainly dealt in sweet grains but honestly, the trick might have worked even if he had been selling boxes of cabbage. Trix is currently demonstrating this on Megs infant brother.

Cadbury had taken the easier approach, he sold chocolate. There was always a demand for chocolate. Nestle had followed the trend and had done so well with chocolate milk that his company now also sold all kinds of other groceries. Blue sold ice cream - blue bunny ice cream - and had even named his favorite flavor 'bunny tracks'. Peeps sold marshmellows that were sometimes shaped liked fluffy little bunnies but sometimes were shaped like fluffy little chickens. Peeps was weird. Clover and Cinnabunny each dealt in spices. There were several proud carrot farmers, naturally and also a group that specialized in making salad dressings. And there were others, always so many others. Their companies sold everything from bags of jellybeans and jars of honey to bottles of wine - and then some - but they had not yet achieved the same levels of success. Their names weren't as well known.

Vanilla knew them. She hadn't seen or talked to any of them for eight years but she knew them.

On the one hand, it was nice to have the family around. The whole family. Not just her brothers but also her parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles and sisters-in-law, nephews and nieces, cousins and distant cousins. On the other hand... It was a lot to deal with. A lot to take in. A whole lot to clean up after. And Vanilla may have grown up with a mob but she'd been living away from them for the last eight years. She had gotten accustomed to having her own space. She had gotten accustomed to spending her days baking. To being quiet and calm and polite.

She made her way back into the kitchen, hoping for some privacy and tried not to scowl at what she found there instead. Some of her brothers had matured over the years but others... Not so much. Certain siblings still got on her nerves. "WHERE did you get that dress?!" Vanilla didn't need to wait for a reply since she recognized the dress. "Didn't I ASK you to stay out of my closet?!"

"...b-b-but it's such a good color on him..." stuttered Roger. He was a comedian. Which meant that he probably regarded crossdressing as a rite of passage. It also meant that stuttering was a professional choice that he'd made.

"Don't hate me because ah'm beautiful." added Bugs, who was also a comedian and could speak with nearly any sort of accent on a whim. Currently he is in southern belle mode.

Vanilla picked up a marble rolling pin in a meaningful way.

Roger jumped into the air with an exaggerated expression of terror and then dashed off at a comical speed. Bugs - still wearing the dress - strolled out more casually and paused to strike a flirty pose, winking as he stepped out the door.

With elder brothers like these... How Vanilla had survived her childhood without even having to try and save the world remains an unsolved mystery.

"Don't be too hard on them." says her brother Rabbit, who is trying to be helpful by washing up some dishes. Rabbit was technically a pokemon now. He could have been over in the pokemon world helping Christopher Robin be the number one Gym Leader - but family came first. Christopher Robin had understood. He was a nice kid. "They DID take care of that guy who offended you over the phone, after all."

Begin a cutscene. We can see a severly charred man. "...think they can get away with turning MY tavern into a smoking crater..." muttered Moe the bartender. His clothes are still smoking. He has developed a slight twitch and doesn't seem to be speaking to anyone in particular. He is clutching a rifle. Someone will probably try to nominate him for a political office before this story is over with. "I'll show 'em." Moe continues as he stumbles around unsteadily, the first hints of a maniac laugh already in his tone. "I'll show 'em real good!" End the cutscene.

Vanilla might have been aware of the cutscene if the reunion hadn't been going on. But with so many other rabbits around, her attention doesn't have much space left for anything else. Still... She HAS been thinking. And what she has been thinking...

"I do appreciate that." Vanilla said and the sincere tone that she spoke with meant that the more she talked, the more her family gathered around to listen. And even though there are far too many of them to fit into the building, they are rabbits. So they have good ears. "But... It's just that... My daughter is only seven years old. And she's already helped to save the world. More than once. Isn't that silly? And I have never been able to help her."

A pause. Vanilla sniffled, pained by the admission. She is a single parent. She is a calm and polite business owner. Vanilla was not just the owner, though. Her bakery was small but successful and she was the only employee. She was doing all of the work. Not just the baking but also the washing up and the advertising and paying the bills and... So she was always busy. But what Vanilla had realized, deep down, was that she had NEVER been so busy that she couldn't have helped to save the world. She wouldn't have ever MINDED helping to save the world. No, Vanilla didn't consider herself a warrior and she didn't like fighting. So she honestly didn't know what she could have done to help and... That made it worse, in some ways. Because her very own sweet innocent seven year old daughter... Cream didn't like fighting, either. Cream didn't consider herself a warrior, either. But Cream had always helped to save the world, anyway. So if even such a young and peaceful child could be an active hero... Then for an adult to become a hero... There must be a way. There must have always been a way. Why couldn't Vanilla see the way? And why hadn't the kids ever asked for her help?! Didn't they trust her?

Didn't they need her?

What if... Her very own little girl, her only child... Didn't need her anymore?

THAT made it personal.

Vanilla chews her lower lip. All the lingering internal sadness, doubt, worry and distrust that she's felt for the last eight years have started to merge together and take on a new shape. Anger. And the bulk of this anger was not just directed at herself, for a change. Nope. Right now, Vanilla felt angry with the whole world. Really angry. And being angry wasn't easy and it wasn't something that Vanilla enjoyed. But this had not been a rushed decision. It had taken Vanilla her whole life, for her to feel this angry. And creatures who are slow to anger - it's important to note - are among the most dangerous. Because they will think before they act. They will plan. They will be prepared.

"So shutting down the one offensive guy is a good thing, yes." Vanilla continues to explain. "A step in the right direction. But the problem is... There will always be another offensive guy somewhere out there, won't there? So... It seems like... If we're really going to try to make a change... Make the world a better place... A safer place, a place doesn't get endangered so often... Not just for my daughter but for everyone... Then... We have to do... I don't know. More."

The entire extended rabbit family considers this.

"Uhm. Maybe one of us could run for a political office?" someone eventually suggests.

This idea gets a mixed reaction. There's a healthly amount of murmured skepticism. The rabbit clan has wealth, royalty, divine power and all kinds of talents at their disposal but they don't hold any elected political offices. Because most of the rabbits, they were not predators. No. The bunniculas were vegetarian vampires. The zombunnies ate rotten vegetables. Even the semi-dragons would choose salads over steak. So, the innumerable microscopic lifeforms aside, there weren't actually that many predators in this family. Killer rabbits, yes. But predators who ate what they killed, no. And politics... The rabbit family had been aware of politics and had made fun of politics and had even sold things to politicians but... The rabbits did not view themselves as political creatures. They had always been too busy being a touch of everything else, to be political creatures as well.

But now that the idea was out there...

"No." Vanilla speaks up, automatically hushing the skeptical murmurs with her serious thoughtful tone. She is starting to sound like someone with a plan. "Not one. We can't expect to really make a difference by taking just one political office. It's too big of a task for just one political office. If we're going to get anything done then we are going to need more than just one political office. In fact, we are probably going to need all of them." Her voice is soft but Vanilla clenches a fist to show her increasing determination. "We should take all of them."

Silence.

Her family is looking at her. Wanting to see if she really means it.

Without needing to say another word Vanilla makes it clear that she REALLY means it.

Not even five minutes later, a brand new political party was created. Just like that.

**ooxoo**

**S**hould we stop there? Yes. Perhaps. Will we stop there? No. Why not?

Here's a musical clue: _...cause we're never gonna survive, unless we get a little crazy..._

Now imagine a spotlight on a stage. Then make that several spotlights on a big stage.

Is there going to be a rock concert here? No. Sorry.

"Ladies and gentleman! Welcome to Boring Political Arguments!" The unseen host chuckles. The audience laughs and applauds. It's clear that the 'mistake' introduction was not a real mistake. The host continues. "Also known as the Inaugral Presidential Debate! Inaugral is a fancy way of saying 'first' just so you know. Which means that we have a lot of work to do! There are a hundred and fifty-seven contenders here today! Quite the impressive turn out! But only a few will dare to risk getting the actual job. So who are these brave souls?"

The camera pans to the far right. A lady recently released from a hospital - and the fact that she has healed enough to be released should be taken as proof that she must not have been a patient at Gotham City Hospital - is here. She wears a business suit and geeky glasses. She smiles and gives the camera a wobbly thumbs up. Due to previous experiences and still being on crutches, she can now resist the impulse to say that she is going rouge. Or was it rogue? She always got that mixed up. Anyway. Up until about ten minutes ago, her new campaign slogan had mentioned someone called Joe the Plumber. Then a master plumber named Mario had come along and revoked Joes license. So now her latest new campaign slogan was: "Vote for me! It'll be a grand old party!"

Moving towards the center of the stage, we can see that Wile E. Coyote is calmly chatting with some of the people around him. Yes. He has gained the ability to speak. And his voice is not squeaky or scratchy or comical. No. The coyotes voice is smooth and sophisticated. This is a serious warning sign. Because what it means is that Wile E. has recovered all of the powers that he'd forgotten about while living out in the middle of the desert. It also means that the coyote is radiating so much charm that he doesn't even need an official campaign slogan. Most of the people running against him are already feeling tempted to vote for him - because they're listening to him. His campaign manager, the Robot Chicken, can hardly keep up with the donations.

To the far left side of the stage is the ghost of Peter. Yup. He had run - well, floated - away screaming earlier. He could have dropped out. He didn't have to be here at all but that's probably exactly why he is here. Plus he doesn't have much to go home to, at this point. Also Peter is now convinced that he should have a fairly decent chance at winning the job. Because Peter intends to argue that since he is already dead, he wouldn't need constant personal security or special transportation or... And all of that would add up to major savings for the taxpayer, wouldn't it? So having a ghost in charge is actually starting to sound halfway sensible. Peter does know that coyotes are probably somehow related to dogs and dogs can be smart. He knew this because his best friend was a smart dog. Despite knowing this, Peter currently considers the political lady on the far right to be his only serious competition. He figures that people will vote for her either because she is female or because they think she's hot. Not so much because they respect her or agree with any of her opinions. Thus in order to counter the political ladys 'connect to the common man' strategy, Peter has somehow managed to gain an endorsement from Bob the Builder and so his campaign slogan is: "Can we fix it? Yes, we can!"

Not all of the candidates are here. There are some noteworthy absences. The rabbits haven't arrived yet. The mafia had been advised that opening a casino was less expensive than running a political campaign. Knuckles may or may not still be among the living and, either way, is in route to some important discoveries that will probably keep him distracted. Team Rocket as a whole has just plain no idea of what they are really aiming for but that's probably the only way to give them a chance at hitting the target.

As for everyone else up on the stage - who cares? Seriously. There is no point in introducing them. You've never heard of these people before. You'll probably never hear of them again. They've put in some effort and done the paperwork, just to be here and that is commendable but they won't win. They probably already know that. They might (or might not) be great people. Any one of them might (or might not) make an awesome president. But nobody is going to vote for them because everyone thinks that would be a wasted vote. That's traditional. That's just how these things go. The old ways hate to change.

But then again, change is a constant. Even better than a law. And the whole point of the televised debates is to eliminate as many contenders as possible. Simplify the choice.

With that in mind...

"And now, ladies and gentleman!" says the host of the debate. "A special treat! Due to the low televison ratings of past political debates, we are happy to announce that instead of the usual buzz-word filled discussions that prove and accomplish almost nothing in the long run since these wanna-be politicians will all certainly retract and change their statements later... Instead of just allowing these people to stand around pointing at each other in menacing ways... We have chosen to adopt and adapt a gameshow format! Because what the world REALLY wants to know about its candidates these days is..."

Oh dear. You just saw the host of this debate, didn't you? And it was a human. And even though this human dresses a bit like a weatherman... No. It was comedian. Who gave him directions?!

Fate is backstage and flips a switch.

The gameshow theme music begins. The lyrics contain a valid question: _Are you smarter than a fifth grader?_

While the fifth graders skip out onto the stage and the audience applauds wildly, the gathered political candidates - except for Wile E. Coyote, super genius - reel in shock and horror at this surprise change of format. And the host, Mr. Foxworthy, smiles and leans towards the cameras so that he can be heard. "Ya might be witnessing the apocalypse if..."

**ooxoo**

**B**ut who even watches the presidential debates?

Not the President, that's for sure.

He has managed to get out of his office, though. And hide from everyone. The work was beyond full-time and the President occasionally just needed a few moments to himself, to relax. Try to relax. And recover. Try to recover, anyway. So he'd dug the tunnel in secret and... The room is tiny and dusty but it does contain a simple chair and an old television set. Which is on.

"Is it true that you once had to run away from a wolverine?" asks a concerned talk show host.

A full grown wild bear is seated in front of the audience. It whimpers. The talk show host has to hold its paw in a comforting way before the bear can timidly nod. The emotional talk show audience goes to hug the bear and offer their support.

The President has a box of tissues in his lap and dabs at his eyes, as he watches.

Mythology wanders through, unseen.

A shiny golden hedgehog arrives. He would be hard not to see. And for the record, he is not gold-plated anymore. He is just gold-painted.

Mecha is a robot. He sends a signal to the old television and it shuts off without being touched. "You are the President, correct?"

Oh and by the way... Just the fact that Mecha is here is probably not good news for James Bond. Or Perry the Platypus. Because they had probably tried to stop him.

"Yes...?" The President sounds anxious. However he doesn't immediately call for security because - since he IS the President - he has shaken hands with a lot of creatures. Including world-saving heros. He tended to shake their hands and present them with medals for saving the world. His full official title was The World President and so he got to be the person who officially and publically said thanks whenever the world was saved. What this meant was... The President didn't really know Sonic, they weren't exactly friends but... It seemed like ever since getting elected to this office, the President had been presenting awards to Sonic. Or to whomever chose to show up to accept the awards on Sonics behalf. Because Sonic didn't always care about accepting the awards. This was not surprising. The speedy blue hedgehog was known to be a free spirit and suspected of being a teenager. Formal award ceremonies were not likely to be places where Sonic felt comfortable.

And this golden creature was not Sonic, the President knew, but it was some kind of hedgehog and it did resemble Sonic. He could see that. So... Maybe it was a hero, too? The President was at least willing to listen to the creature. It might have something important to say.

"I have come to inform you of your retirement." said Mecha in emotionless digital tones. "Your job is no longer necessary." He raises a hand with sharp fingers splayed. This is a gesture that the robot has spent many hours practicing since it seems to mean 'don't argue'. However just to make sure the message is understood, Mecha also speaks the words. "Do not argue. It is clear even to me that you do not love this job. You would not be hiding from everyone down here if that were not true."

The President takes a few moments to compose a reply. The reason he takes a few moments is because he has to suppress the initial urge to hug the robot for trying to retire him. "Thanks for the offer. But...uhm... How did you find me, by the way?"

"You are wearing several concealed tracking devices. Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Oh. Right." The President thinks a few creative phrases about various paranoid government organizations. "As I was saying... Thanks for the offer but no thanks. I can't do that." The President sighs and proceeds to explain, as much for his own sake as anyone elses. "I worked hard to get this job and there are a whole lot of people who might be counting on me and yes, the job is thankless but I don't actually hate ALL of it and..."

Mecha has tried to conquer the world before. He has tried violence and blowing things up. Those methods hadn't worked for him. So he is trying a different approach. He approves of this approach. Because he was a conscious robot. So the main difference - the vital difference, the defining trait - between Mecha and regular robots were their levels of awareness and intelligence. Killing things, blowing things up... That wouldn't allow Mecha to show off his intelligence. And he'd learned so much, over the last few years, from working at the casino. He didn't want to conquer the world by force. No. Not anymore. What Mecha wanted was to conquer the world by force of personality. Because just having any sort of personality at all was an accomplishment, among robots. And he didn't want to flat out destroy anyone who might stand against him. Instead Mecha wanted, as much as possible, to be reasonable. To make anyone who might want to stand against him, stand down. On their own. Because if you could defeat an opponent without having to resort to violent cliches then that was proof of your intelligence as well.

If he wasn't smart enough to outwit the person in charge, Mecha had decided, then he shouldn't get to be in charge instead. That was logical.

"I assume that you are eventually going to say something sentimental about wanting to make a difference." Mecha intoned.

The robot spoke slowly. This was deliberate. His brain was full of computers. Mecha could think at speeds even faster than Sonic could run. What's more important is that Mecha could also speak at that speed. It was the default speed that he spoke to other computers at. Humans were not able to hear him, when he spoke at that speed. Even the various organic creatures who had a better-than-human range of hearing were not often able to hear him. Not with any consistancy. And even when they did hear something, it would be a high-pitched squealing noise. The robots top speed talking wouldn't have sounded like speech to the average organic creature. Despite this Mecha had learned to deal with organic creatures, on a daily basis. Which meant that the robot had certainly learned the value of acting skills. It also meant that Mecha tended to regard organic creatures, all of them, as being slow. Which was why he spoke slowly to them. Extra slowly, when he wanted to be sure that he had their attention. Super extra slowly meant that he really did not want to have to repeat himself. Silence usually meant that the robot was already thinking about something else. Although sometimes a silence meant that the robot felt that he would have to resort to actions or maybe even handpuppets in order to communicate.

"I invite you to realize that allowing me to proceed with my plan would count as making a significant difference." Mecha finished.

The President is fiddling with the remote for the old television set, trying to get his show back on. It's not working. "That would be irresponsible! I can't just let you take over my job -"

"No. I do not want YOUR job." Mecha clarifies. "I just want you to retire. So that I can create a better position."

The President frowns. Having the job was bad enough. But this... It was hard to feel appreciated. "Look. I mean, I know it's gotten to the point where - "

Begin a cutscene. A little girl is sitting alone at a dinner table. Dinner may have ended awhile ago but she is still here. There is a plate in front of her. The plate is full of brussel sprouts. "EW! They look like snot balls!" The little girl makes a face to convey her disgust and pokes at the sprouts cautiously with her fork - as if wanting to make sure that they're dead - but plainly has no intention of ever eating such gross things. Then the mother of this little girl comes to stand behind the child. Mother speaks in a gentle warning tone. "Suit yourself. But know what I heard? The President NEVER ate his brussel sprouts, either. That's what I heard. And THAT is why he had to take the job!" The little girl gasps as she is informed of this, horrified by the prospect that she might have to grow up to be the president if she doesn't eat her vegetables. She proceeds to clean her plate so thoroughly that it hardly even needs to be washed. She will have to get professional counseling about this someday. Watch out. End the cutscene.

"No." says Mecha. "You are wrong. The point that it has actually gotten to is more like -"

Begin a cutscene. The scene is a fictional courtroom. Zoom in on the judge. He consults some paperwork and then speaks with a solemn not-even-remotely-kidding tone. "In light of the particularly heinous and brutal nature of the many crimes that you have confessed to, in writing... Instead of recommending the death penalty or giving you multiple consecutive life terms in a maximum security prison, I feel that I have no choice but to sentence you to..." The judge pauses here to shudder at the harshness of his own ruling. "...the Presidency! One full term. No parole." Glad to have that over with, the judge bangs a small wooden mallet on his desk to show that his decision is final. "Take him away!"

The smirking hardened criminal - who is still covered in the blood of his victims and who has been handcuffed to everything in reach - flinches, stops smirking and whispers in a sincerely frightened tone. "You can't do that!" He attempts in vain to escape from the courtroom. His voice becomes louder and more desperate as his unsuccessful struggles continue. "No! You can't do that! I wouldn't have ever confessed in writing if I'd thought that - NOOOO! PLEASE!" It takes less than thirty seconds for the hardened criminal to be openly weeping and pleading for mercy while a company of military troops - and it's clear that the soldiers feel sorry for the guy but they're just regular people, doing their jobs - drag him out of sight to begin his punishment. Once the somber procession is finally out of sight - which takes awhile, since they are also dragging all of the heavy furniture that the criminal has been handcuffed to - there are a few extremely violent noises which all by themselves are able to indicate that the criminal would rather - and has in fact successfully found a way to - die. End the cutscene.

The President blinks. "That bad?! Really?!"

Mecha does not blink. "Yes. That bad. Really."

"Gosh."

Silence.

Mecha starts to reach for the compartment that he keeps the handpuppets in.

"This position that are you thinking of creating - what is it?" asks the President. "I mean, if you need me to retire... If you're not going to be called Mr. President... Then what are you hoping to be called?"

"God." replies Mecha. Still in emotionless digital tones. Then, because he is a robot and wants everyone to understand how this happened to a robot, he states. "This was not a title that I chose. My followers gave this title to me. I am going with the flow."

It's just as well that the President has some practice at being diplomatic. "Uh. I see. Well. That...is...nice. Uhm. Always good to have supporters. But... Err. No. That's not going to work. I mean... I know it's an old policy but we have this thing called Separation of Church and -"

"I am not from a church. I am from a casino." says Mecha. "This may be a minor detail but it is probably an important minor detail."

"Still!" The President is struggling to remain diplomatic, "You can't just - "

"Why not?" Mecha interrupts. "I have been studying. People say that actions speak louder than words, yes? So consider the actions of your political peers. Surely you are aware of their behaviors. The lawmakers seem to regard themselves as being above the law. They have better healthcare than the doctors. They have better paychecks than the bankers. And when they retire - IF they ever retire - then they get to take their healthcare and paycheck with them for the rest of their lives. Possibly longer. Individually, the lawmakers will probably spend more money on trying to get elected than they have ever invested, collectively, in education. Clearly, no matter what they say, they do not want to educate the masses because a more intelligent public might mean the end of their jobs. Not all parts of the system are broken but even a simple glance at the history will show that the lawmakers don't so much solve problems as create more problems. They have a reputation for responding to violence with more violence and worse, they have the power to give themselves more power. So to say that the job has corrupted them is comparable to describing water as wet. Accurate, yes. But it doesn't scratch the surface."

Mecha pauses. Not because he needs to pause but because he knows that anyone who is listening does.

"Try to understand." He continues, after he judges that the pause has gone on for long enough. "Based on these observations, what the lawmakers have accomplished goes far beyond mere corruption. Their actions would indicate that they are worshipping themselves."

Another pause.

Mecha does not have fingernails. He inspects the tips of his spikey metallic fingers anyway in an attempt to seem bored while wrapping up this lecture. "Therefore, obviously, there has never truly been any degree of Separation of Church and Government. In fact, if you retire and I can publically declare myself to be God... Then all that I may initially achieve is the leveling of the playing field."

And what a playing field that was going to be. Mecha was looking forward to the challenges and he didn't even know what all of the challenges were yet.

The President really hates that the robot is right. "I really hate that you're right." He admits. "But... Look... Tempting as it is... I'd like to help and all... But even if I were to retire... Retiring me does not necessarily get rid of the position. The job would probably still be here. Someone has to do it. In fact there are candidates out there, this very minute, trying to get elected to my job. So someone else would take the position."

"If I let them." Mecha deadpans, as only a robot can.

"Good point." The President sighs and then continues to protest. "But... Look... I mean... You accuse others of being corrupt. So... If you come into power... Then what's to keep you from being corrupted as well, right? What's the point in replacing corruption with more corruption, you know? I am not going to retire for..."

Mecha leans closer to the President. "Do I LOOK human?" The robotic hedgehog asks.

"Well, no. Of course not."

"Then please do not accuse me of something so...organic." Mecha intones. "I have already taken such possibilites into consideration. According to my own calculations, the risk of my being corrupted is very low."

The President frowns. "According to your own calculations, hrm?"

"Yes." says Mecha. The robot replays that statement in his own head and belatedly realizes that this is going to be more tricky than he'd expected. "Fine. I will check with my followers to see if they agree. At least I am willing to listen to my followers, correct? Can you say the same for all of your political peers?"

"...No. But..." The President opens his mouth. He closes his mouth. He thinks about his first day on this job. All the promises he'd made, all the plans and dreams... The hope of a whole global popluation, resting on him. That's what it had felt like, anyway. Although just trying to keep the government functional - nevermind solving all the other problems of the so-called civilized world - was not a one person job. He'd known that. He had traveled a lot while campaigning and that had taught him a few things. He'd understood that this job came with hazards. He had known that the paperwork would be extreme, the expenses would be ridiculous and that no matter what he did, there would always be someone out there who was willing to blame him for something that was completely beyond his control. He'd known that the job would age him. Still. The President had done his best. He hadn't accomplished everything that he'd wanted to but he also hadn't just run away screaming. And even after a few years in office, he wasn't too corrupt - although that was at least partly because the office that he held didn't have as much power as he'd expected.

He thought about all the political candidates who were out there, this very minute, trying to get elected to his job. He wondered if he should try to warn them.

Nah. Another thing the President had learned was that if people didn't ask for advice then they didn't want it. You could try to warn them but that didn't mean that they would listen. Even if they listened, it didn't mean they'd believe you or remember your warning. No. Some people, they just had to learn for themselves. If they learned for themselves, they would remember.

Even this robotic hedgehog here, maybe it could learn. Maybe it could learn quickly. Maybe the robot really would have a chance to make a difference.

"All right. You win." With that the President stretches, stands, collects his jacket from the back of his chair and starts to leave. Then he pauses and looks down at the shiny metallic golden hedgehog. He thinks about Sonic again. Because the President... He was a nice guy. And he had always gotten to thank Sonic for saving the world but he'd never really had much chance to help the hero and... It couldn't hurt to at least offer, right? "Are you sure that you know what you're getting into? Maybe if I stayed then I could help you by..."

"Your pity is not needed." Mecha says and then he has to consciously alter his digital voice so that it gains a rare amount of pre-recorded emotion and authority. It is not often that the robot is able to speak from personal experience. But he has been rebuilt a few times, so... "And a system that is broken should not be repaired with old parts."

"Right. Well said." The retiring World President put his jacket on. He walked away. He wasn't completely unhappy to be retiring. He hadn't been trying to get re-elected. After all, it had been about eight years since he'd had a day off. "Good Luck."

Elsewhere, at a large and busy family reunion, a divine rabbit takes off her headphones. Had someone just called her name? She perks and then swivels a single ear, listening. Nothing. Hrm. Maybe she had only imagined it. She shrugs and puts her headphones back on. But she does have the volume turned up. So anyone nearby can hear the upbeat music eminating from her headphones.

_You can fool yourself, I promise it'll help. Now every single day, I just wanna hear you say: I'm so lucky, lucky..._

**ooxoo**


End file.
